A Place Called Home
by lily-bug
Summary: Almost eighteen, broke, and pregnant, Buffy Summers is abandoned by her jerk of a boyfriend in a parking lot, and ends up finding the family she never had. Winner in the Barefoot Awards, and nominated in the 'Till the End of the World Spuffy Awards!
1. A Little Philosophy

Disclaimer: I will not claim to own anything of this story. Joss Whedon created the characters, Billie Letts wrote "Where the Heart Is", which this is based on.  
  
Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language.  
  
Author's Notes: Hi! It's Lily-bug again! I know people have been after me because I have not finished my other stories, "Paradoxal Truths" or "Most Rare Vision". This summer has been really crazy. Also, this idea hit me in June, and I haven't been able to get it out of my head. So far, I have ten chapters archived, which I will post regularly. Once I get settled in my dorm and classes start for my first year at college, I will resume my two other stories. As always, please review because I want to know if you like this story. Love to all.  
  
PS: The song "Something in the Air" is by Thunderclap Newman, taken off the "Almost Famous" soundtrack. Go see it! Go see it, or I will tie you down and make you watch it! ____________________________________________________________________________  
  
Chapter One- A Little Philosophy  
  
Life, no matter how mundane your past has been, or how ordinary it appears to outsiders, can change in a moment.  
  
Yesterday, you were a city construction worker for Salt Lake. Today, you're the newest lottery winner.  
  
This change comes without warning.  
  
A week ago, you repaired shoes in a small town outside of Austin, Texas. Today, you're a paraplegic after that semi truck ran a red light and hit you.  
  
Change doesn't care if you're content with the way things are going.  
  
Eight months ago, you were a waitress in a Nevada.  
  
Today, you're in a car, headed towards Los Angeles, your once-tight belly swollen with a growing baby, the father sitting in the driver's seat, singing loudly to an old Thunderclap Newman number.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
His voice, a rich baritone, filled the car, a rusted '75 Chevy Nova. Along the side of the car, the original baby-blue paint job was still visible in rare patches along the body where the rust hadn't corroded the metal.  
  
For a quick second, he removed his grip from the steering wheel to flick the ashes of his cigarette into an empty Coke can. His hand resumed the original position on the top of the wheel, long fingers curling over the black plastic, thumbs taping out a one-three rhythm to the song.  
  
His birth name was Liam; given to him from a mother in Washington he hadn't spoken to in thirteen years. But he only answered to the name of Angel. He obtained the nickname from a bartender in Chicago on his fifteenth birthday. After a major fight broke out, the bartender told police officers the kid looked too angelic to start it.  
  
The buddies he hung out with back then used the nickname to tease the hotheaded boy. Even after he grew a foot and a half, and packed on fifty pounds of muscle, the name had stuck. It had helped him out in situations. Guys would avoid fights with a guy who had the balls to introduce himself as Angel.  
  
And women, no matter how virginal they attempted to be, found it easier to take off their clothes for a guy named Angel.  
  
It had been the same cycle for years. Go into a town. Start fights, steal, drink, sleep with women, drink some more, and then sneak out before anyone could come after you.  
  
But, in that small, shit-hole town on the border between Nevada and Idaho, he had made a mistake.  
  
He stayed to long.  
  
She understood that now, sitting next to him as she scribbled in her notebook. She was the ultimate epitome for the ways of Angel, so was the child who had spent the past eight months growing in her belly.  
  
Her golden blonde hair was plastered to her forehead and the back of her neck due to the extreme heat and lack of air conditioning. The Nova, which had been bought for sixty-three dollars and spare change, had no working A/C or AM radio, and the floor under the passenger's seat had rotted away.  
  
The gaping hole stared up at her, threatening to swallow her feet and drown her in a pool of concrete and tar.  
  
"Angel," she asked in a small voice, "Could you please be a little quieter?" Her head was pounding, the seat was uncomfortable, and she was desperately trying to finish writing.  
  
"Nope."  
  
All of his responses were usually monosyllabic, as if he had no desire to speak any more than necessary. Unless he had something mean to say.  
  
He laughed, taking a long draw off his cigarette and blowing the smoke inside the cab. "It's a lot better than your snoring. I had to listen to you for two hours today, snoring away like some kinda pig."  
  
"But Angel-"  
  
His left hand, which had been hanging out the half open side window, raised up slightly.  
  
"Just pointing it out, Buffy. You sound like a pig when you sleep. But, then again, you kinda look like one."  
  
This shut her mouth, a small pout poking out from her pursed lips. She wasn't *that* fat. Sure, she had gained an additional twenty pounds to her petite frame within the last eight months. But for God's sake, she was pregnant!  
  
Turning her attention back to her notebook, she made a small notation.  
  
'Seventeen years old, and pregnant, heading towards LA with a guy who smoked like a chimney and fucked anything that had a hole.'  
  
'Yeah, things are just fine,' she thought, writing it down, a scowl making her forehead crinkle.  
  
'Just fine.' 


	2. Superstition

Disclaimer: I will not claim to own anything of this story. Joss Whedon created the characters, Billie Letts wrote "Where the Heart Is", which this is based on.  
  
Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language.  
  
Author's Notes: Oh goodie, some people have actually decided to read this story! Well, anyway, I'm glad you like it, except for my bitch of a sister Anyanka Faith, and my bitch of a friend Organized Mess (I love both of you severely). And, as always, Imzadi, I adore you and your fascination with Lindsey. All I have to say is, MAYBE! Fanreader and Michelle, I'm glad you like it, and, just for you, here's the next chappy. Longer, just to make up for the short snippet I published last time. As always, tell me what you think. Hugs, kisses, and football-like slaps on the ass!  
  
PS: GO DUCKS! ____________________________________________________________________________  
  
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Chapter Two- Superstition  
  
The third trimester of pregnancy had been better than her first two. During the first three months, the morning sickness had been so bad that Buffy had to give up the morning shift at Willy's Place, the café she had been working at. And she had gained so much weight during the seconds three months, she was afraid that she'd never get it off.  
  
Although the third trimester was turning out to be a breeze, she was constantly tired. Janna, who had worked at Willy's along with Buffy, explained that she slept fourteen hours a day when she was pregnant with her fourth child.  
  
Around noon, Buffy felt herself drifting to sleep in the Nova. She and Angel had been on the road for four days, and the endless horizon of sand and sun took on a hypnotic effect, throwing the girl into a drowsy state.  
  
Her notebook, a cheep spiral number with various magazine clippings pasted to the cover, was placed on the dashboard so it wouldn't fall down the hole in the floor as she slept.  
  
She had her dream.  
  
# # # # #  
  
When Buffy was five, her mother Darla abandoned her and ran off with a man named Joseph Nest. Neighbors took in the young girl, and decided to splurge on a day at the county fair to cheer her up.  
  
The day had been a whirlwind of excitement, and Buffy ended the day by riding 'Colossus', a monstrous roller coaster. It terrified her, and when she got off, she vowed never again to ride roller coasters.  
  
For the past few months, she kept having the same dream.  
  
She was on 'Colossus', in one of those bottomless cars, her feet dangling below her. The ride would start, and up the car went. It was as if she was flying into the heavens.  
  
Just as the car hit the peak, a small hand would grab hers. Through some maternal instinct, she knew it was her baby's hand. But as Buffy tried to look at the child, the car would swoop down at about one million miles an hour over the peak.  
  
It went on forever, tossing and turning her body, slamming her head against the neck brace. All the while, that little hand clutched hers for dear life.  
  
When it appeared that the ride was over, the car turned a corner, and the loop came into view. They flipped around, and at the moment when the car was completely upside-down, Buffy's neck brace broke open. She fell, but that little hand would keep hold, not letting her go. Eventually, as they clung to each other, her baby's neck brace would also detach. Mother and baby fell to their deaths.  
  
Just as they hit the ground, Buffy would wake with a start.  
  
# # # # #  
  
This time, it actually felt real.  
  
In that small space of time where you can remember every aspect of dreams, Buffy swore that her's was real. She swore she could feel the rush of air across her face, sailing through her toes. At one point, in the dream, she felt her shoes fly off as she rounded a dangerous curve.  
  
As she blinked the sleep out of her eyes, she realized that it was, in fact, a dream.  
  
Groping the dashboard, she grabbed her notebook and placed it safely in her lap. Or, more correctly, what was left of her lap.  
  
A sign on the road caught her attention. A mile marker, the number 5 glaring at her as if the sign was red-hot.  
  
Cringing, she crossed her fingers, then whispered a brief protection spell she learned years ago from a woman she lived with for three months.  
  
Buffy did *not* like fives.  
  
It was probably hooky and medieval for her to be so superstitious, but she didn't care. Fives and Buffy were un-mixy things. Darla left her when she was five. She lost her virginity to some random guy who ended up stealing her car and $20 in room five at the Motel Six in Idaho. A year ago, she was waitressing in a bar in Las Vegas, a fight broke out between two customers, and when she tried to break it up, one of the guys pulled out a knife and slashed her arm open. It took fifty-five stitches to close up the wound.  
  
Buffy looked down at the floor to avoid the sign. It was then that she noticed her shoes were gone. Her pair of thongs had mysteriously disappeared.  
  
Through the hole in the floor.  
  
She looked back, hoping to see her shoes lying somewhere down the road, but she couldn't. 'That's why the dream felt so real,' she realized. At least it wasn't her notebook.  
  
Those thongs were the only pair she had, the only ones that still fit her swollen feet.  
  
Angel's voice drifted over to her, and she began to panic. He wouldn't be happy if he found out she lost her only pair of shoes. For the past four days, he hadn't been happy at all. The job in Phoenix he hoped to get had been filled by the time they got there. After that, he got drunk in some random bar, started a fight, and was put in jail overnight. Needless to say, he probably wouldn't take it well if he found out.  
  
Right now, he was singing along with the radio, some nameless tune she had never heard before, and she would forget about after it was over. A cigarette was in his mouth, held by his teeth as he sang.  
  
Again, she let her gaze wander outside, not wanting to have that likely heated conversation with him now.  
  
Flashing past the speeding Nova was another green sign, but this one proclaiming "Los Angeles- 349 miles".  
  
That's where they would build their new life. LA. The Phoenix job hadn't panned out, but he got a tip from one of his relations of a position in the city. So, after she bailed Angel out of jail, they headed north.  
  
She began to dream of this new life. After the baby was born, they'd get married, probably by a justice of the peace. They would stay in an apartment for a while, until Angel made enough money to move to the suburbs. And, for the first time in her life, Buffy would live in a real house. For all of her seventeen years, she stayed in various apartment complexes, trailers, motels, and even for six weeks, a tent. Now she was actually going to get her house, something sturdy, with a real foundation on the ground. No paper thin walls with noisy neighbors, no hassles with landlords. Something with a backyard, for a sandbox and a garden, and a porch in the front, where she and Angel could sit on a porch swing and watch their child draw with chalk on the sidewalk . . .  
  
"Hey." Angel's low voice snapped her back to consciousness.  
  
He held up the Coke can filled to the brim with cigarette butts. She'd complained since Phoenix that his smoking could hurt the baby, but he wouldn't stop.  
  
Instinctively, she parted her legs, and Angel shot the can through the hole in the floor. The same hole where her shoes had fallen through a while ago.  
  
For a moment, she doubted that Angel would be game for her suburbanite dream.  
  
As, once again, she began to stare out the window, an enormous building broke through the flat horizon. It looked, to the girl, like Heaven.  
  
Wal-Mart.  
  
"STOP ANGEL!" She screamed as loud as she could, knowing this would get his attention.  
  
"What?" he growled, clearly pissed off that she dared to interrupt him half way through Simon and Garfunkel's "America".  
  
"There's a Wal-Mart!" Her finger pointed to the building, then to the exit that was rapidly approaching.  
  
"So?"  
  
"So, I gotta . . ." Thoughts flashed through her head as she tried to come up with a suitable answer. "I gotta pee!" It was partially true.  
  
"You went pee at the last stop!"  
  
"I'm fucking pregnant! The baby keeps kicking my bladder!"  
  
Her whines always got on Angel's nerves, so to shut her up, Angel sped towards the exit, without signaling or looking over his shoulder, and almost slamming into a pretty green VW bug in the process. In this same manner, he raced through the parking lot, stopping in an obviously handicap space, all the while grumbling while the car idled.  
  
This new anger made the next request hard to force out.  
  
"Um . . . I'm gonna need some money."  
  
"Money?" His face was now set in a scowl.  
  
"Well, I need some . . ." she explained, then took a big gulp of air, "Shoes."  
  
"Shoes? You have almost twenty pairs!"  
  
"Actually, I have one."  
  
"Then why the hell do you need shoes?"  
  
He looked down at her feet, to point out the perfectly good flip-flops she had been wearing for a while, but they were missing. Almost immediately, he put two and two together.  
  
Not responding, she gave him a slight pout, hoping he wouldn't go any further with the questioning.  
  
Another grumble-fest took place as he reached in his wallet, and took out a ten-dollar bill.  
  
"Thanks." The acknowledgement seemed to pass right through him. So she opened the car door, placed her notebook down on the seat, and got up out of the car.  
  
But as she did, she felt a small movement inside her large stomach.  
  
"Hurry up, we gotta be in LA by five!" Angel was impatiently tapping on the steering wheel.  
  
The demand and the ill-forsaken number were unheard. "Angel, come here," she asked in a breathless tone.  
  
"For god sakes, hurry your big ass into the store and piss away!"  
  
"Angel!" Anger filled her voice, and for once, he shut up. "Come feel the baby."  
  
Rolling his eyes, he his head away, focusing instead on a nearby semi.  
  
Refusing to give up, Buffy walked around the hood of the car, and opened the driver side door. She grabbed his hand, and gently placed it on her stomach.  
  
"Can you feel it?" She was breathless again, amazed by the tiny life in her belly. When he didn't respond, she asked again. "Can you feel it?"  
  
"Feel what, damnit?"  
  
For a brief second, she removed his hand, checked the spot, then put his hand where she was sure he could feel it.  
  
"Can't you feel that little 'thump . . . thump . . . thump'? That's where the baby's heart is."  
  
Snatching his hand away, he used it to change radio stations. "Whatever. I can't feel it."  
  
She wanted to cry. Tears formed in the corner of her eyes, but she shook them away. There was no point in crying.  
  
Money in hand, feet bare, sweat beads on her forehead, and her belly sticking out, Buffy Summers walked into the Wal-Mart.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Cool breeze from the air conditioning blasted over her body, and the instant change in temperature had some healing effect on her, but Buffy ignored it as she raced to the bathroom.  
  
The stalls were all in use, so Buffy waited, leaning against the tile wall. Her reflection, the one she had avoided since her belly started to grow, stared at her in the mirror.  
  
Her once golden hair was now dull, pulled into a sloppy ponytail, the loose ends matted to her forehead and the back of her neck. Due to the heat, her skin was blotchy, and dark bags hung under her eyes. Without makeup or lotion, she looked dry, worn.  
  
She no longer felt like the seventeen-year-old waitress who seduced Angel. That stupid, foolish girl seemed all but gone. Left any wonder to why he never looked at her the way he used to.  
  
Refusing to look any more at her reflection, she began to hop back and forth, waiting for one of the stalls to open up. A little girl, hair in pigtails, came out first, and Buffy hustled into the empty toilet.  
  
After a quick pee, she ran over to the shoe department. Her eyes fell on a pair of white platform flip-flops, with a pattern of bright orange and blue flowers. Only $4.45!  
  
Grinning, she picked up the shoes, and went to the checkout line. Concentrating more on the tabloid magazines in the rack next to her than the checkout attendant, she absently handed over the shoes and the cash.  
  
As she puzzled over one headline (Elvis IS alive, and he's giving birth to Jesus!), she couldn't hear the attendant speak to her.  
  
"Excuse me?" Buffy asked.  
  
The attendant scowled, hating to repeat herself. "Here's your shoes, and change, miss."  
  
Buffy took the shoes, now held in a plastic bag, and reached her hand out for the change. Only then did she see the amount on the screen.  
  
$5.55 in change.  
  
Shit.  
  
Her loud scream echoed through the store, and she dropped every cent of the change as she ran out of the automatic doors, ignoring the attendant and greeters struggles to get her attention.  
  
'It's not happening, he wouldn't do it, it's not happening, it's not happening . . .'  
  
She repeated the mantra in her head, hoping that fate would take pity on her. But, even before she got to the parking spot, she knew what had happened.  
  
The handicap spot was empty, her suitcase and notebook were hastily strewn in the space.  
  
A familiar oil stain, the one she nagged him to fix before they set off, stared up at her, the only part of their car left behind.  
  
Angel was gone.  
  
She was alone.  
  
And she had no idea where she was. 


	3. New, and So Different

Disclaimer: I will not claim to own anything of this story. Joss Whedon created the characters, Billie Letts wrote "Where the Heart Is", which this is based on.  
  
Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language.  
  
Author's Notes: Ola, my lovelies! Thank you so much for reading the last chappie. Also, I want to thank all of you who were angry at those "negative" reviews I received. But, sorry to say, I know both of those reviewers. They are my sister and my good friend, and they were just being shitty. But, thanks to all of my white knights and knightesses. Anyway, I have good news and bad news. Good news: NEW CHAPTER! WITH RELEVANT PLOT ITEMS. Bad news: I will not be updating for at least a week. I'm moving from my house to my dorm room (eek! The scariness of being a freshman in college). I do have Internet hookup, but with all the things that will be happening, it might be a while. But, keep reading, because I personally punish myself if I don't finish stories, i.e.- I have cut off both of my big toes because I have not updated my other two stories in quite some time. Love to all, and then some.  
  
PS: Oh, Imzadi, dear . . . Lindsey is very much a hottie. Just saw a picture. Very munchable! (Or, as my spell-check tried to correct it to: MOUNTABLE!) ____________________________________________________________________________  
  
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Chapter Three- New, and So Different  
  
Years later, Buffy would not remember the checkout attendant approaching her, handing over the shoes and change in a white plastic bag, or her mandatory "Have a nice day." She wouldn't remember gathering her belongings and moving to a nearby bench to sit.  
  
But she remembered opening up her journal, finding the next blank page, and scrawling through her tears,  
  
'Angel left. What am I going to do?'  
  
When she looked back on it, when she found that page splattered with the residue of the salty tears, she would still feel that pain. It twisted inside her belly, stung her throat, made her head spin. Only seventeen years old, left alone in some random California town, her only means of support traveling far away in a rusted Nova.  
  
Pushing away the tears, she remained at the bench, too stunned to properly contemplate anything.  
  
A soft voice broke through her mild catatonia.  
  
"Marie?"  
  
It was directed to her, although she did not recognize the name. Looking up, she saw two women approach her out from the greenhouse. One of them was young, probably not a few years older than her, with soft honey-blonde hair. A shy smile, which seemed permanently fixed on her sweet face, radiated out.  
  
The speaker was older, probably in her mid-forties. Pretty, well dressed, in a casual sort of way. Her light brown hair hung in waves near her shoulders, bouncing as she walked closer to Buffy.  
  
"Marie Morgan?" Her voice was questioning, as if she knew her, but was waiting to be sure.  
  
Buffy glanced over her shoulder, to see if this Marie Morgan was right behind her.  
  
The woman continued. "I haven't seen you since you left town with your family! How many years ago was that? Ten, eleven?"  
  
'So, she is talking to me,' the blonde realized. "Oh, you see, I'm not-"  
  
"I was walking out to my car with Tara here," she pointed to the young woman, who shied away during this moment of acknowledgement, "When I saw you sitting on that bench, and I thought to myself, 'That's little Marie Morgan!' I see your sister all the time when I get up to LA, but seeing you! And pregnant, no less!" Laughing slightly, the woman's face glowed.  
  
"Sorry, but my name isn't-" Buffy tried to explain, but the woman interrupted.  
  
"Do you remember when you were seven, and you painted JOYCE on my garage so I would remember where I lived?" More laughter came, and Tara joined in, due to the spectacle her older friend was creating.  
  
"So," the woman (Joyce?) continued, "Where are you staying?"  
  
Buffy was at a loss. This woman obviously thought she was someone else, and didn't realize that she wasn't this someone else. Not knowing what else to say, Buffy just made up the answer.  
  
"Around . . .you know, somewhere nearby."  
  
Joyce (?) grinned, her face softer after her giggle-fest. "That's wonderful. It's like Tara says, 'You always end up coming home.' I guess this makes it true."  
  
This sparked something in Joyce, her eyes lighting up. For a brief moment, she turned to whisper something to Tara. Both nodded at the same time, their conspiracy decided.  
  
"Come with us for a second, Marie."  
  
Grabbing the blonde's hand, Joyce pulled her over to a black Jeep SUV, Tara trailing behind. Joyce popped open the trunk, and pulled out a small green bush-like plant in a black plastic holder, and deposited it in Buffy's hands.  
  
"Tara used to work for me, but now she owns the greenhouse on Maple. Well, today she came over to landscape the gallery. She's very gung-ho when it comes to decorating." Rolling her eyes at the statement, Tara blushed.  
  
"Anyway," continued Joyce, "Tara got a shipment of tea rose trees just yesterday, and brought a few to plant. It turns out she brought one to many, and I've been wondering what to do with it. Now I know."  
  
For the first time since they met, Tara began to speak. Her voice was soft, and she had a slight stutter, but it was worth it to hear.  
  
"Y-y you plant it w-w-w where it can get some shade during the day. In about w-w-w one year the buds will sprout. This one is," frowning, she began to examine the plant, her observant eye carefully deciphering the species, "Antique pink."  
  
New sandals on her feet, and a small plant cradled in her arms, Buffy smiled for the first time that day, although it was small, self-conscious in front of the new people.  
  
Joyce broke the silence. "Well Marie, we've taken up enough of your time, and I need to get Tara back to work, so we'll let you go on with your day." Slamming the trunk, Joyce inserted the key and locked it. "You make sure to come visit me. I'm at the gallery during the week, and home on the weekend. Same place as ever: 1630 Revello Drive."  
  
Waving goodbye, Tara hurried over to the passenger side just as Joyce got into the driver seat. As the engine started up, Buffy began to turn, heading back to the bench, only to be stopped when Joyce called to her again.  
  
"Welcome back to Sunnydale, Marie!"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
She had abandoned her bench at three when the heat and exhaust fumes started getting to her, choosing to wander the store.  
  
Around five, Buffy started to get hungry. She bought a little thing of nachos, a candy bar, and a pop at the snack bar, then settled in one of the booths to eat.  
  
This snack left her with 65 cents. There were also two $20 bills hidden in her purse. Apparently Angel hadn't gone through her stuff when he ditched her. That money would have been gone.  
  
Suddenly, she wasn't all that hungry, but she willed herself to finish the nachos and pop, then put the candy bar in her purse. Since she and Angel left Nevada, she hadn't been eating all that well, and she knew it wasn't healthy for the baby.  
  
Without anything to do, Buffy began to wander the store once again. This was one of those Super Wal-Marts, with a grocery store, so she could spend a long time wandering.  
  
It was about ten, and most of the aisles were empty of customers when she ended up in frozen food. One guy remained, standing in front of a glass door, the glass fogging up with frozen condensation. A cell phone was pressed to his ear as he talked loudly.  
  
Trying to give the guy his privacy, she stopped in front of a door filled with frozen dinners. She tried to guess the other ingredients of the cherry cobbler when the cell phone guy's conversation became louder.  
  
"As I've been trying to explain for the last ten minutes, they don't have any Ben and Jerry's here . . . No, Cordy, I'm not going to run up and down the other aisles trying to find it . . . Because this is where they place the ice cream! There isn't going to be ice cream in ethnic foods, is there? No . . . God, you don't need to . . . Please don't cry! Oh, how about I bring you a pint of Pralines and Cream? It's your favorite . . . Great! I'll be home right away! I love you!"  
  
Oozing triumph, he clicked the phone off, and stuck it in his shirt pocket. He then began to scan the iced shelves for that perfect pint of Pralines and Cream.  
  
As he searched, he glanced over at Buffy, who had been watching him during his phone conversation. When this happened, she got embarrassed immediately, and ducked away.  
  
"So, how far along are you?"  
  
Her head whipped back over to the man, who was weighing the decision between the cheep, generic brand, or the well known but expensive pint of ice cream.  
  
"Me?" She asked, her voice small in the large area.  
  
The man smiled. "No, the other pregnant lady in frozen foods."  
  
At first, she didn't catch onto the joke, but she got it seconds later. Laughing slightly, she turned to the man.  
  
"Eight months." She left out the 'I think'. Buffy hadn't exactly been to a doctor since she discovered she was pregnant. Most of the information she got was from various books and magazines.  
  
Nodding, the man rotated completely to face her.  
  
"That's what I thought. My wife, Cordelia, is about two weeks behind you." Suddenly, a large grin broke out on his face, his eyes sparking. "I swear, since I knocked her up, it's been 'Get me this', 'Do that', 'Buy me this' nonstop. Within a few weeks, she's gonna make ME have the baby!"  
  
Their laughter echoed through the empty aisle.  
  
In a quick move, the man grabbed one of the containers, slammed the door shut, then hustled over to her.  
  
"Xander Harris," he said, outstretching his right hand.  
  
"Buffy Summers," she replied, shaking his hand.  
  
"Nice to meet you."  
  
Giggling, Buffy began to study the man. He was tall, much taller than her, and his almost black hair stuck out at odd angles against his head. The smile on his face was almost childish, as if he were still a young boy.  
  
Xander took the ice cream carton and threw it to his other hand. "So, have you thought of any names for your youngin'?"  
  
She shrugged. "Not really."  
  
"Cordy's been all gung-ho about this name thing. She's made this chart to determine the proper name for whatever type of kid we have. Like, if it's a boy with brown hair: Mark."  
  
"Efficient."  
  
"I don't know." Sighing, he leaned against the glass doors. "I think the name should come to you. It should mean something. All of these Ashleys and Joshs running around, the name has to be significant. If that's the right word."  
  
Speechless, she again observed this man. He still looked youthful, but that wisdom, however mutilated it was worded, hit her.  
  
"Well, Miss Buffy Summers," Xander began, "I'm afraid I must depart. I am three minutes away from being castrated by a pregnant lady with a praline craving. So I say goodbye."  
  
"Bye, Xander Harris."  
  
The new friends joined hands, shaking once more.  
  
"Hope to see you around," he stated, before jogging off, the ice cream carton continuously passing between his hands.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
It was eleven that evening when Buffy heard the announcement she had been dreading.  
  
"Attention all Wal-Mart customers. It is now closing time. Please take all your purchases to the front counter. We thank you for shopping at Wal-Mart, and hope you have a pleasant evening."  
  
Her stomach began to churn. Suddenly, the realization that she was alone hit her. And she was scared.  
  
Previously flipping through a magazine, she set it down and headed towards the bathroom. Earlier that day, Buffy had stored her bag and new plant inside a storage compartment in the girl's bathroom. There had been too much to carry, and putting it away somewhere safe helped. Slowly walking, either from exhaustion or the dread that formed a cloud above her head, she went to retrieve her stuff.  
  
The bathroom was dark, and smelled of cleaner, but she flipped on the lights and went straight for the closet. Both items were still there, nestled between one of those little yellow 'Wet Floor' signs and a bottle of bleach. The tree and the bag, along with her purse, the clothes she was wearing, and her journal, made up her possessions.  
  
It was all of her life.  
  
Not feeling the strength to leave just yet, Buffy sat down on the tiled floor, pulled out her journal and a pen, and began to write.  
  
'I don't wish to be pitied. I got myself into this mess. Sure, it's partially Angel's fault. It's not like I crawled on top of myself and got pregnant.'  
  
'But how can I be expected to raise a baby with forty dollars in my pocket?'  
  
Closing the cover on her journal, Buffy lay her head against the wall, letting the tiles cool her body. Her eyes felt heavy, more from mental exhaustion than actual sleepiness.  
  
# # # # #  
  
Colossus climbed up into the heavens, gracing past the stars as it clicked along the track.  
  
She looked down, and the earth was small, unrecognizable.  
  
As she neared the peak, her child grabbed her right hand, holding onto it from fear. But another hand grasped her left, larger than her child's. She turned to the stranger, and was surprised to find it belonged to Angel.  
  
"Can't you feel that little 'thump . . . thump . . . thump'? That's where the baby's heart is."  
  
Angel turned to her. He wore the same grin that seduced her when he sauntered into Willie's Place eight months earlier.  
  
"Whatever. I can't feel it."  
  
His fingers, which had been linked with hers, now moved to grip around her wrist. And with a sudden burst of strength, he flung her from the restraints.  
  
Still holding onto her baby, she fell.  
  
# # # # #  
  
Buffy woke with a start. She realized that she had fallen asleep.  
  
"Shit!" she exclaimed as she gathered her possessions up.  
  
As she flung the bathroom door open, she suddenly became enveloped in darkness.  
  
Through her impromptu nap, the Wal-Mart had transformed into a ghost land. The churning of the Icee machines replaced the continuous announcements and chatter that filled the store earlier.  
  
She set her stuff down near the bathroom entrance. How could the employees of Wal-Mart have missed her when they closed up for the night?  
  
Then she remembered going into the bathroom earlier to retrieve her things. It had been cleaned and closed up for the night.  
  
Timidly, like a tiny mouse, the blonde began to creep through the deserted store. She knew there would be no exit for her this night. The store probably hooked up alarms to prevent break-ins from occurring. And at the same time, the sensors also prevented break-outs.  
  
After ten minutes of searching, Buffy knew that everyone had left for the evening.  
  
Gathering her things, she moved toward the outdoor furniture section. Earlier, she fell in love with a portable lounge swing with a canopy, stripped in dark green and white. But she hadn't had a chance to sit in it.  
  
She slowly lowered herself into the swing. As she had suspected, it was comfortable, the soft material cushioning her.  
  
A light creaking noise, more like a lullaby than an annoyance, came from the joints as she rocked back in forth.  
  
She knew she should write in her journal, or find someplace else to be, but at this moment, Buffy wasn't going to.  
  
Because she finally felt . . . good. 


	4. Poetic Justice

Disclaimer: I will not claim to own anything of this story. Joss Whedon created the characters, Billie Letts wrote "Where the Heart Is", which this is based on.  
  
Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language.  
  
Author's Notes: Back online, much to everyone's dismay. Hi from college, my lovelies. This is such a fucking weird experience, but I love every minute of it. But, as I promised, I would continue to post. I have a lot of time between classes, so if I am not socializing with my pals, or doing homework, I will be writing. Today's chappy is a short one. Just like the book, or movie, there will be an entirely different plot line involving everyone's favorite shit head (no, not Riley), Angel. In all reality, I adore Angel, but I am portraying him as Angelus, in case you didn't already realize that. So please read and enjoy, for that is what I live for. Kisses.  
  
PS: Can you guess where I got Angel's last name? Pretty funny, huh? I am sooooo creative. ____________________________________________________________________________  
  
* *  
  
*  
  
Chapter Four- Poetic Justice  
  
Nearly 100 miles out of the hole he left Buffy in, the '75 Nova sounded its final sputter, and died along the highway.  
  
In the blazing heat, Angel had to walk for two hours until he found a town with a garage.  
  
He and the owner drove a tow truck back to the Nova, but almost as soon as the hood was lifted, the diagnosis was clear.  
  
"Sorry kid, but your car's a piece of shit."  
  
The guy did tow the car to town, so Angel wouldn't have to pile all of his stuff into the truck. And once they came back to the garage, the owner bought the Nova for parts.  
  
He wasn't car-less for long. A pickup truck sat in a nearby driveway, so he quickly hot-wired it, and got the hell out of the town.  
  
Around sunset, he had a craving for something hard to drink.  
  
There was a bar outside of another town, and the bright neon lights advertising beer and pool games called to him, like a bug zapper drawing a fly closer to death.  
  
Kind of poetic, seeming how Angel, later that night, would end up being that fly.  
  
With the fifty buck he made off the car, Angel bought a few rounds of whisky and an insignificant, tiny bag of pot.  
  
Choking down his fifth glass of the dark-colored liquor, he noticed the stool next to him move, and a young, gorgeous woman sit next to him.  
  
"Buy me a drink?" Her request was heavily laced with seduction, and Angel couldn't help but feel himself melt as her long, silky brown hair swept past her shoulders when she turned to him.  
  
"Sure, baby," he grinned a tad, then signaled the bartender for another drink.  
  
"So," the girl asked as she choked down her drink, "You gotta name?"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The girl was screaming his name later that night, in the front seat of the pickup.  
  
He had bought her a few more rounds, then played a game of pool with her, all the while knowing how close he was to getting laid.  
  
She had been coy when he off-handedly asked her if she wanted to go outside. But, she led the way out, and as soon as the two got into the stolen car, initiated the sex by giving him a (rather good) blowjob.  
  
Now, they were doing all sorts of nasty shit, shit that Buffy wouldn't have imagined of doing. And the girl was good. Real good.  
  
They were so engaged that they didn't notice the cop car pull into the parking lot, actually there to break up a fight. Nor did they see the cops recognize the truck that had been reported earlier as stolen.  
  
But they did hear the cops knocking on the window.  
  
"Sir, could you and the lady step out of the vehicle?"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Please explain to me how 'your' truck fits the exact description of the stolen vehicle reported earlier this afternoon, and how the license plates match?"  
  
"Donno." Angel replied, trying hard not to look the cop in the eyes. They could tell he was lying.  
  
"And that ounce of pot that we found in your back pocket?"  
  
"It's . . ."  
  
"One more thing," the cop interrupted, now turning his attention to the girl. She had been standing next to Angel the entire time, staring at the ground, silent. "Dawn, hon, I haven't seen you in six months. How's your mom?"  
  
"Fine," she whispered, looking up. It was then that Angel noticed how young this woman looked.  
  
"You had a birthday in June, didn't you?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"So, that would make you . . ."  
  
His heart began to do this weird flip, as if he were going to have a heart attack. But, when Dawn answered, all of the light from her young, blue eyes shinning through, Angel wanted that heart attack to come.  
  
"Fourteen." 


	5. First Impressions

Disclaimer: I will not claim to own anything of this story. Joss Whedon created the characters, Billie Letts wrote "Where the Heart Is", which this is based on.  
  
Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language.  
  
Author's Notes: More! Oh, I'm so glad that you think Angel got what he deserved! Speaking of Angel, did you all see last week's episode? Very, very cool. Oh, and today is a new episode with everyone's favorite person! Hurrah! So, new chapter in honor of today. The first part is a journal entry from Buffy, if you didn't understand that. But, hope you like. Read, review, and I will shower praises on you.  
  
PS: Boo. ____________________________________________________________________________  
  
* *  
  
*  
  
Chapter Five- First Impressions  
  
'Today was such a weird one. All three of my alarm clock woke me up an hour early, but I had a good amount of time to finally shave my legs. I haven't had the luxury of doing it since I decided to live at the Wal-Mart two weeks ago, and my legs were starting to look all hairy, like a man's. Or like that woman, Aunt Helen, who took me in for a month up in Spokane.  
  
'Sunnydale isn't as junky as I thought when I first got here. It's only the part that faces the highway that gives it that "white-trash" appearance. Actually, it's quite a nice, suburban town. They've got all sorts of places to shop. Not just The Gap and Borders, like you'd expect from most places that define suburbia. There are a lot of small shops and specialty stores; places for tourists to shop and the townies to rest.  
  
'I especially like the park. When my legs feel like they're going to give out, I go to the park and rest on a bench. There's one by a small, hidden fountain that I especially like, and I can sit there for hours, reading the novel or the pregnancy handbook I borrowed from the store.  
  
'I have been borrowing a lot from Wal-Mart lately. Just today, I took a new box of crackers, one package of juice boxes, a thing of meat slices, some grapes, a sundress (because the other one I took needs to be cleaned, which I will do tomorrow), and a bag to hold everything in (remember my old bag? Well, it broke, so I had to get a new one). So far, I've filled up two pages of my notebook with everything I've helped myself to. It's like that Jimmy Buffett song. "We never took more than we could eat,/ There was plenty left on the rack./ And we all swore if we ever got rich,/ We would pay the mini-mart back."  
  
'Anyway, I wandered around town today for a while, stopping at the strip mall to window shop. Tomorrow looks pretty much the same.  
  
'Got home around ten, and spent most of it in the big storage area in the back. Someone had put a mop in my space in the closet where I hide, so I moved it. Everyone left pretty early today, so I got in quickly.  
  
'Well, I'm very tired, and I need to sleep. Night'  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
At four-thirty in the morning, soft music began to play. It source was a pink alarm clock, battery powered, and placed in the outdoor furniture section of Wal-Mart.  
  
One minute later, a second alarm clock went off, this one black, and playing some local AM station. The two noises did not blend together, and the sudden cacophony was annoying. Exactly their purpose.  
  
But, on the chance that the two didn't work, another clock was set to go off one minute after the second. It was an old-fashioned gold one, with the two little bells and the ringer placed at the top. This clock had a place of honor on top of a glass patio table, three feet away.  
  
Exactly on time, the clock began to ring, and the sound would jolt anyone who happened to be sleeping. And Buffy immediately sat up. Grumbling, she threw the cover of her sleeping bag open, stood up as quickly as a pregnant lady could, and went over to the patio table to turn off the clock.  
  
Silence once again settled over the store as the blonde began to pack everything away. First, the batteries were removed from the clocks, put into a pocket in her bag, and the clocks were re-packaged up. Then, the bag was rolled up and placed again into the plastic it came in. Finally, she would take her nightgown off, carefully fold it, and place it in her bag.  
  
The night before, she'd lay out her clothes for the next morning. Today's choice was a light blue sundress she had borrowed from the Wal-Mart, along with the sandals she bought on her first day.  
  
When everything was clean and stored, she would go to the bathroom, brush her teeth, and take a quick shower in the faucet. Not quite easy, but she got it done.  
  
It would be around six when she was ready for the day, and when the employees of the Wal-Mart started coming to work. Buffy would run to her spot in the back room, and wait until all fourteen of the morning crew had come in.  
  
Today, she was especially tired as she stood in the closet, peeking out through a crack to watch everyone. In the middle of the night, she had a little bit of indigestion, which had woken her up.  
  
"Nine, ten, eleven twelve . . . thirteen," she counted, as she waited for the fourteenth to pass by. "Fourteen!"  
  
After she heard the door to the retail area close, Buffy got out of her spot. As she did every day, she hid the possessions that she didn't take with her for the day. So her large bag and her tea rose tree were placed in the closet, hidden underneath a large tarp.  
  
But, as she put her plant away, she noticed how unhealthy it looked. For a while, it looked like some buds were going to bloom. All but two remained on the plant, the rest dead on the soil. Many of the leaves had turned brown, while others were curling up.  
  
Voices from the store were coming close to her, so she quickly picked up the plant, hid her other items, and made her way outside.  
  
Passing by the stores of downtown Sunnydale, Buffy was questioning what to do with her plant. Looking at it in natural light showed off how sick it actually was, and she decided to take care of it right away.  
  
For a while, she considered taking the plant to Tara. A week earlier, Buffy found Tara's greenhouse three blocks away from Main St. But Buffy wondered what the shy woman would think if she brought her gift back, sick and almost dead.  
  
'If I only had some real books to look this up . . .' she thought.  
  
Then, as if someone upstairs heard her thoughts, Buffy saw a sign across the street.  
  
SUNNYDALE PUBLIC LIBRARY  
  
She had seen the building a while ago, but hadn't seen the bronze plaque near the left of the main entrance, two French doors, glass with wood trim, and white blinds shading the sun. It was a large, old building, taking up almost half the street. The front grounds were immaculately neat and trimmed.  
  
Grinning, Buffy crossed the street over to the library. She climbed the white stone steps, then hid her rose tree behind a large potted plant at the top.  
  
The noisy outside ceased as Buffy let the doors close behind her. But it wasn't silence that confronted her. Music was coming from somewhere in the building, a light classical piece that fit with the atmosphere.  
  
The inside looked older than the front. Off to her left was a reading room, with various desks and comfortable chairs to read in. A grand staircase, those elaborate ones that start off center then split in half and circle up, was to the left, the carpet a deep crimson. Poised in front of the entrance was the front desk, the surface scattered with piles of dusty books. If someone were to stand at the desk, they could look out to the actual book part of the library, which took up the rest of the space.  
  
The floors, front desk, bookshelves, and trim were made of a rich, dark wood, carefully dusted and polished. Large paintings in elaborately guilded frames hung from the walls, painted a muted tan. Windows, with colored glass panes to keep the sun out, ran the length of the wall, up to the high ceilings. But, in the back, the windows were clear, looking out to what appeared to be a garden.  
  
Amazed by this new world, Buffy did not notice the man walk up behind her, pushing a cart laden with books, until he tapped her on the shoulder.  
  
"How can I help you?" asked the man when Buffy turned around.  
  
"Oh . . . hi." Buffy recovered from the shock. "I'm looking for some books . . . duh, I'm a moron. That's what you probably guessed when you saw me come in."  
  
The man laughed slightly. He was an older, middle-aged spectacle wearer. Despite the heat outside, he was fully dressed in a tweed suit and tie. In his youth, he must have been a handsome man, because it still lingered in places. It was his hair, a short, wavy cut that topped his head, that took away from his appearance.  
  
"My name is Rupert Giles, and I'm the librarian," he said, and Buffy then noticed that he was British.  
  
"Buffy. Summers. Buffy Summers. Hi."  
  
They shook hands, and then he began to walk to the front desk, signaling her to follow.  
  
"What type of books are you looking for?" he inquired, going towards a large freestanding box with small file-like doors.  
  
"Plant books. What's that?" she asked pointing to the box.  
  
"It's a card catalog." He pulled out a file, which was, in fact, filled with cards, and began to flip through them. "What type of plant books? Gardening, identification, breeding, care, health?"  
  
"Ooh! Health!"  
  
Grinning, he pulled out a couple of cards. "What type of plant?"  
  
"Um . . . tea rose? It's kinda a bush thingy, and these, I think, antique pink flowers are supposed to bloom off of it."  
  
"And what is wrong with the plant?"  
  
"Well," she sighed, "It's drooping, and almost all the buds fell off, and now the leaves are starting to do it, too."  
  
Finally, he put the rest of the cards down, holding only a single card, and began to walk into the library. Buffy followed him through the shelves.  
  
It was almost like he was going through a maze, turning right, then left, then going down a bit, until he stopped in front of one shelf. He ran his fingers across the books, trying to locate the exact one.  
  
With an air of conquering, Mr. Giles pulled out a medium sized, red leather bound book.  
  
"Now, if you turn to the index-"  
  
But Mr. Giles stopped talking when the front door opened, then slammed shut.  
  
"RUPES?" screamed a voice, also male, and also British.  
  
Mr. Giles turned in the direction of the voice. A frown had replaced the light-hearted one he wore seconds ago.  
  
"I-if you excuse me, Miss Summers, I will be right with you." He was almost too polite.  
  
"Sure, not like I'm going anywhere."  
  
Nodding almost absently, Mr. Giles handed the book to her, then made his way to the front.  
  
Buffy looked at the book like it was a foreign object. She hadn't dealt with many old books. Most of the books she read were paperback, usually trashy novels she stole from friends.  
  
This library was a foreign place, too. When she was younger, before she dropped out of school, the libraries she went to were Bookmobiles, little vans that drove from school to school handing out various things to read.  
  
She could hear the whispered conversation of Mr. Giles and the other British guy at the other end of the library. Moving to get a good angle, but not wanting to intrude much, Buffy tried to locate them.  
  
Mr. Giles had removed his glasses, and was using a white handkerchief to wipe the lenses, as he spoke gravely to his companion. From where she stood, Buffy could just barely see the staircase, where a beautiful woman, wearing an old-fashioned silk nightgown, slowly walked up the stairs, her dark black hair dangling loosely over her shoulders and down her back.  
  
But she obviously wasn't the voice that had called for Mr. Giles. The owner of that voice was still talking to him, although Buffy could only see an arm, clad in apparently black leather, waving wildly around.  
  
When the librarian headed off in the direction of the woman, Buffy turned away, hoping that no one would notice her pathetic attempt at spying.  
  
As she tried hard to locate the section Giles called the index, she heard someone stomping towards her, the steps angry.  
  
The stomps got closer, until they turned the corner, and Buffy was able to see the person. And when she did, her mouth flopped open.  
  
British guys must have no sense of temperature, because he was dressed in black from head to toe, and the long, black leather trenchcoat he wore hung to the tops of his combat boots. In contrast to the all-black attire, his hair was completely bleached, then slicked back with gel.  
  
From the look on his face, he was 100% pissed off. Had he been even remotely calm, Buffy would have noticed his clear, pure blue eyes, and sculpted handsomeness of his face. And, had Buffy not been pregnant and sworn off men the day Angel left her, she would've started to have lusty feelings for various . . . parts of this man's body, which were (for lack of better words) very yummy.  
  
But, since this guy was obviously mad at the world, it shone on his face. From the continuous clenching of his jaw, his sharp cheekbones stuck out and his face was beet red. The knuckles of his hands were white, from him attempting to control the urge to hit something.  
  
"Whaddya want," he inquired gruffly, as if helping her were, in some way, killing him.  
  
For some reason, Buffy felt like she was back in school, and this young man was a teacher, scolding her for being so dumb. "I need to know why my tea rose tree's sick."  
  
Leaning up against the opposite bookshelf, he roughly grabbed the book from her, flipped to the back, looked at a page, then flipped to a section in the middle of the book.  
  
"There." He pushed the book back to her, folded his arms across his chest, and stared at her expectantly.  
  
Stupidity took over as Buffy glanced down at the book, then back to the man.  
  
"What do I havta do?"  
  
He actually growled as he grabbed the book back and began to read.  
  
"It says, 'Illness can be caused by many factors. While diseases common to the species could be reasons, many such illnesses are the result of dehydration, cramped living habitats, nitrogen deficiency, change in temperature and climate, seasonal changes, etc.' Which one is it?"  
  
"What's nitrogen deficiency?" She felt even more foolish by the second.  
  
"Means there's not enough nitrogen."  
  
"Why does a plant need nitrogen?"  
  
"'Cause that's what they live off of."  
  
Exasperated, Buffy sighed. "Where does it get the nitrogen from?"  
  
The man suddenly pushed himself off of the shelves and came to tower over her. "From the fucking ground! So, if you want it to get better, put it in some fucking soil! S'not my job to explain every little detail of plant- life to you! I have more important things to do than help some mentally challenged bint take care of some damn tree! Go up front, check the book out, read it on your own time, and stop bothering me!"  
  
A year earlier, if some guy dared to talked to her like this, he would've been on the ground in a second, both his nose and nuts in terrible pain.  
  
But, it could have been because she was alone, because she lived in a Wal- Mart, because she had no idea how she could care for a child if she couldn't take care of some silly plant, or more likely, because she was hormonally imbalanced, she found only one solution.  
  
She cried.  
  
No, it wasn't an extreme, dramatic breakdown. Her eyes only clouded over with water, with one lone tear trickling down her cheek.  
  
When he saw that tear, the guy changed emotions as if someone threw a switch. His face fell from the angry grimace into one of fear.  
  
"H-hey," he stuttered, trying hard to figure out what to do. "Um, sorry luv, but . . . you don't . . . you don't need to cry."  
  
Wiping the tear away, Buffy looked away from the blond man. She had no desire to speak to him. Adjusting the strap of her purse, she turned on her heels and, as quickly and gracefully as she could, walked away.  
  
She didn't look back, but she could hear him trying to catch up with her. So, she turned in another direction, and made some random path, hoping to loose him.  
  
When the sounds of his boots stomping seemed far away, she headed towards the front desk, and hurried to the entrance.  
  
The door slammed shut just as the guy called out to her. 


	6. Arrangements

Disclaimer: I will not claim to own anything of this story. Joss Whedon created the characters, Billie Letts wrote "Where the Heart Is", which this is based on.  
  
Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language.  
  
Author's Notes: I'm going home for the weekend, so I decided to post the next chapter. And, one of my favorite and, in my opinion, most underused characters in the Buffyverse makes an appearance. I know I'm gonna get a lot of flack for this, or just some pointed eyebrows of curiosity, but it's my AU, so get over it. Love you, so please review.  
  
PS: Imzadi, I think you are a little obsessed with a certain character. But, because I love you, and because you won't leave me alone until I do so, one of the future chapters will contain an appearance by a certain brown-haired hottie. It isn't this chapter, but it will happen soon in the future. Happy now? Much love. ____________________________________________________________________________  
  
* *  
  
*  
  
Chapter Six- Arrangements  
  
"Oh my god." Joyce's face, before an expectant and friendly grin, had fallen to a confused stare. "I can't believe I thought you were Marie."  
  
"It's a mistake. No big." Buffy shrugged.  
  
"But," Joyce continued, leaning against the doorframe, "I feel so stupid."  
  
"Don't."  
  
Sighing with an amused air, Joyce stepped out onto her porch. "When I saw you sitting there . . . earlier that day, I was thinking about Marie and her sister, and Marie had the most lovely blonde hair I had ever seen on a little girl, and then I saw you . . ." Again, Joyce began to chuckle, then began to squeeze her forehead with her fingers. "I'm getting too old."  
  
After Buffy's confrontation with Mr. Angry-British-Boy, she wandered the streets of Sunnydale in a blind rage, contemplating how to perform castration without getting caught. But when she finally calmed down, she found herself in the residential areas of the town, large Craftsmen houses with unique architechtual styles.  
  
Revello Drive was located right in the heart of the areas. She happened upon the street by chance, and her face lit up when she read the green street signs.  
  
1630 was five houses down the street. The two-story house was exactly the kind of place she dreamed of living in. The front yard, not extremely large, was well cared for, dominated by a large tree perfect for climbing up. Small, green shrubs disguised the backyard fence, the wood turning a slight gray from weather. And there was an actual porch in the front! Buffy couldn't believe she knew someone who lived in such a perfect house.  
  
"Well," Joyce began, done with her mental punishment, "I suppose I should learn the name of the pseudo-Marie."  
  
"Buffy Summers."  
  
Smiling, Joyce stepped back into the house. "Well, Buffy Summers, won't you come in."  
  
As she stepped in, Buffy felt her eyes open to comical proportions as she took in the sights of Joyce's home. It wasn't as elaborate as the library, but it was a comfortable elegance. The hallway was dominated by a large painting of, what appeared to be, tree leaves. In fact, various paintings and portraits covered all the walls of the home that she could see.  
  
"What brings you here today," asked Joyce as she closed the door behind Buffy.  
  
"I-" Buffy began, but was cut short when she heard a clatter come from somewhere in the back of the house. "Do you have company over? Because I can go."  
  
"Company?" Joyce repeated, then frowned. "No, you're the only company I've had all day."  
  
About to retort, Buffy heard someone walked towards them.  
  
"Joyce dear, where did you put the . . . oh, hi there!" A man said as he walked into the hallway, but stopping when he saw the young girl.  
  
"Hi," she replied, a tiny bit confused.  
  
"Clem," Joyce said to the man, "This is Buffy Summers. Buffy, this is my friend, Clem Hoddway."  
  
"Pleased to meet you, Buffy." Clem enthusiastically grabbed the hand of Buffy and shook it with the same intensity.  
  
Clem was, to say it nicely, an odd looking man. Time had not been kind to him. All of his hair had fallen away with age, and the skin of his scalp gleamed in the light. His hair had stopped growing, but his ears and eyebrows hadn't, and both were ill proportioned to his head. Even weirder, his skin was that pale-pinkish hue that is common on new born babies, but doesn't have the same effect with aging men, especially those who have a bad case of wrinkles.  
  
Buffy tried hard to stop staring, but Joyce seemed extremely immune to her friend's oddities.  
  
"What were you saying, honey?" She asked Clem.  
  
"Where did you hide the cilantro this time?" He replied.  
  
Kissing him on the cheek, Joyce turned him towards the kitchen. "Behind the baking soda, the same place it always is," she informed him, playfully slapping his butt.  
  
He growled comically, but began to make his way back to the kitchen.  
  
Joyce called to his retreating form. "Oh, and put another potato in the oven. We're going to have company for lunch." She turned back to the blonde girl. "Do you like rosemary chicken?"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Buffy couldn't believe how much she missed eating cooked meat. The past few weeks, she had been subsiding off of the cold deli meat of Wal-Mart, seeing how she had no way to cook anything. But that chicken . . . To this day, she still proclaims that no other meal tastes as good.  
  
Through her large bites of lunch, Buffy found herself looking past Clem's odd façade. He was one of the friendliest people she had ever met. All through the meal, he kept inquiring as to her comfort, offering various beverages, side dishes, and so on.  
  
"You're trying too hard," Joyce whispered teasingly when Clem offered the pregnant girl his chair. He replied with his middle finger, then apologized excessively when he remembered Buffy was there.  
  
After lunch, the three went to the front of the house. Buffy and Joyce sat in chairs on the porch, relaxing, while Clem searched for a shovel to plant Buffy's tree.  
  
During the meal, Buffy had retrieved the tree she stored on Joyce's front porch to explain why she came to visit. Lying slightly, she explained that the place she lived in didn't allow her to plant trees.  
  
Joyce had gotten very angry when Buffy explained this, and although the woman merely shook her head, this anger shot out through her eyes.  
  
"They won't allow you to plant a tree?" she would repeat over and over. "Ridiculous."  
  
Planning on planting the tree herself, Buffy asked where the shovel would be, but Clem gently took the tree out of her hands, then shooed the two women to the porch.  
  
"So," Buffy began, taking a sip of iced tea as she sat back in the lounge chair, "I don't think that you and Clem are just 'friends'."  
  
Looking at the young girl sideways, Joyce hid a smile as she kicked off her shoes.  
  
"Clem and I have been good friends for a long time. We have . . . an understanding."  
  
"An understanding? So, that's what you kids are calling it these days." Buffy finished the statement with an evil grin.  
  
When Joyce playfully slapped her on the thigh, the two began to laugh.  
  
"What's so funny?" asked Clem as he approached the two, a shovel now in his hands. They didn't stop laughing, so he simply rolled his eyes. "Buffy," he asked when the two had calmed down, "How deep should the tree be planted?"  
  
The girl shook her head. "I didn't get a chance to read all of the library book. So, I guess you want to plant it . . . deep?"  
  
Joyce stood up to get the pitcher of iced tea as Clem went back to the yard, and began to refill the glasses.  
  
"You went to the library today?"  
  
"Mmmmhmm."  
  
The older woman sat back down. "So, you must have met Rupert, the librarian."  
  
Buffy nodded.  
  
Taking an open sugar packet, Joyce stirred it into her tea. "Rupert and I are very good friends. My gallery is on the same block as the library, so I've gotten to know him well."  
  
"Do you and Mr. Giles have an understanding too?" Buffy teased.  
  
"Hush." Joyce threw a small ice cube at the girl.  
  
After Buffy stuck out her tongue, Joyce continued. "Did you have a chance to meet William?"  
  
"Who?"  
  
"William, Rupert's nephew. Well, I guess he would introduce himself as Spike. He only lets a few people call him by his real name."  
  
Scrunching up her forehead, Buffy thought back. She hadn't met anyone else this day, besides Mr. Giles and Clem.  
  
"Spike." Joyce tried to explain, noticing Buffy's confusion. "He's a bit older than you, British. For some reason only known to him, he wears black a lot, bleaches his hair."  
  
It sparked something in Buffy. So, the British bastard had a name.  
  
"I see you did meet Spike," Joyce laughed when Buffy squinted her eyes and her nostrils flared out in anger.  
  
"Yes, I did," she replied through clenched teeth.  
  
"And I take it that he wasn't in a good mood."  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Well, then it must have been a bad day for him. Most of the time, he's the sweetest young man in the world. But, on other days, he can be . . ."  
  
"A shit?" Buffy filled in.  
  
"Enraged and insensitive," Joyce actually replied, giving Buffy a warning evil eye.  
  
"Why's that?"  
  
Taking a long drink of tea, Joyce thought of a way to explain it.  
  
"William has been forced to deal with a lot. He came to live with his uncle when he was eleven after both his parents died. And there have been certain times where fate hasn't been to kind to him. I've watched him grow up since he moved here, and every time something goes wrong, he takes it and moves on. He is such an intelligent young man. Everyone in town thought he would go to some prestigious college after graduation, because he could really be anything he wanted. But, he has certain responsibilities at home, and he feels that he need to care for these issues before he moves on. Some days, everything will be fine, but on rare occasions, he has been known to lash out."  
  
Huffing, Buffy crossed her arms. "He didn't need to 'lash out' at me!"  
  
"It wasn't you," Joyce assured the blonde. "You were probably the most convenient target available, and probably right at this moment, he feels extremely bad for it. The next time you two meet up, you'll be the one to lash out because he won't stop apologizing."  
  
Falling into a silence, the two women looked out over the yard. Buffy wasn't as angry as before, but since she was extremely stubborn, she wouldn't admit it. 'This William guy better apologize, or I'll kick his dick in the next time I see him!'  
  
"It's all planted!" Clem announced, breaking through Buffy's thoughts as he stomped up the steps to wash off.  
  
Feeling light after the serious conversation, the two giggled like schoolgirls as they walked to the spot where Clem planted Buffy's tree.  
  
He had chose a spot off to the side, a part of the yard that was bare, but partially shaded over. It may have been her imagination, but Buffy thought the tree already looked better.  
  
"I want you to know that I'll be taking care of this tree, so you won't have to do a thing, Joyce," Buffy explained to the woman, who was also looking at the tree.  
  
"I hope so, because I'm a busy person, and I can't be bothered to take care of a tree." Joyce was uncharacteristically serious, and the young girl felt like she was taking advantage of her new friend's kindness.  
  
"Well," she thought out quickly, hoping to put her at ease, "I'll come by whenever you want and water it and feed it-"  
  
"Then you should come by every day, and stay for at least two hours," interrupted the woman.  
  
"TWO hours?"  
  
"Yes." And finally, Joyce turned to the girl, and gave her a big smile. "It'll take you five minutes to take care of the tree, and you and I will talk the rest of the time. By the way, you don't have plans tomorrow, do you?" 


	7. Everyday Is a New Beginning

Disclaimer: I will not claim to own anything of this story. Joss Whedon created the characters, Billie Letts wrote "Where the Heart Is", which this is based on.  
  
Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language.  
  
Author's Notes: I don't feel clever today, so I'll just keep it brief. Here's a new chapter. I hope you like it. Please tell me what you think. Blah blah blah. I think my brain is malfunctioning, because I can't create a single coherent phrase. Oh, well. Peace, love, and potatoes, dearies.  
  
PS: Today's piece of philosophy. "Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former."- Albert Einstein ____________________________________________________________________________  
  
* *  
  
*  
  
Chapter Seven- Everyday Is A New Beginning  
  
Monday mornings are evil. Just when you find yourself relaxing after a hard week of work, they snatch it away from you just as quickly, and expect you to snap to attention like trained soldiers.  
  
But, those who have the luxury, or the curse, of unemployment, find Mondays to be just another boring day of the week.  
  
Sunnydale Main Street was still bustling with late morning commuters when Buffy turned the corner. She found herself in total envy of the businesspeople, in their expensive suits, chatting into their cell phones while they sipped on nonfat mocha lattes with extra foam. They actually had homes, and places to go each morning.  
  
For the young woman, that was only half the case this morning.  
  
Two days after Buffy's tree was planted in Joyce's front yard, Buffy found herself walking to the gallery.  
  
The women had become fast friends, and spent every afternoon together. Then, Joyce asked Sunday evening if Buffy would help out at the gallery on Monday, doing odd jobs. Quickly agreeing, Buffy promised to be at the gallery by nine the next morning.  
  
As Joyce had explained, her store was mainly a tourist destination than an actual gallery. Much of her income came from the sale of prints, replicas of famous pieces by famous artists.  
  
Joyce hadn't explained that the interior of her gallery resembled a museum more than anything else, Buffy discovered as she entered through the glass door.  
  
Movable walls separated the medium-sized area, creating passageways and small, secret sections to place the artwork. One sign hung above a rather large chunk of the room, "Treasures of California", dedicated to various tribal pieces, including a fertility statue who's stomach stood out more than Buffy's.  
  
Having just finished up a telephone conversation, Joyce immediately jumped up from her desk and embraced the girl. After the mandatory half-hour of chatting, Joyce set Buffy to work. First, she dusted the artwork, a fairly easy task. Then, while Joyce attempted to sell one expensive painting to a customer, the girl alphabetized the prints by the artist.  
  
"What now?" asked Buffy after she removed all the dead flowers from a vase on top of the front desk.  
  
"Lunch time," replied the woman, turning the sign on the door to CLOSED.  
  
"Already?"  
  
Shrugging, Joyce began to switch off the interior lights. "It's a slow day, and with you being such a big help, we can take an extremely long break."  
  
Both grabbed their purses, then began to walk down the street after Joyce locked up.  
  
They conversed about nothing in particular while they walked, slowly for Buffy's sake. But, when they passed the library, Joyce suddenly stopped.  
  
"Oh, that's right!" she exclaimed, looking towards the library's entrance.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Giles called me up early this morning. He just received a book that he thought I would be interested in, and he asked me to stop in during my break." Frowning, she thought things over. "No, I can do it another time."  
  
"It's alright," Buffy responded.  
  
Sheepishly turning her gaze back to the library, Joyce sighed. "We won't be there more than five minutes. I'll just see what he wants."  
  
"Take all the time you want. It's not like I have anything better to do today."  
  
Both turned around then made their way up the marbled steps.  
  
"Rupert!" Joyce called out into the empty building as a Bach concerto played quietly from some unknown point.  
  
A head poked out from behind the checkout counter, pulling glasses back onto his face.  
  
"Hello Joyce," Giles responded, hurrying over to give the woman a friendly peck on the cheek. He then noticed Buffy. "Miss Summers, so nice to see you again." She was shocked that he could remember her name.  
  
"Nice to see you too, Mr. Giles." Buffy took the older man's hand, shaking it happily.  
  
He blushed. "Please don't call me Mr. Giles, it makes me sound very old," he requested, all the while smiling at her.  
  
"Well Rupert," Joyce began once the others had exchanged greetings, "You have something to show me, 'Extremely remarkable', as you put it."  
  
"Oh, yes." His eyes lit up as he ran back to the counter. Rummaging around for a second, he pulled out a large, leather book. "This arrived in a shipment yesterday, and I knew that you would be excited by it."  
  
About to respond, Joyce was interrupted by a loud voice.  
  
"Rupes, where did you put the soddin'- Joyce!"  
  
All heads looked in the direction of the bookshelves, where a certain bleached blond was emerging from the periodicals. He was beaming when he saw Joyce talking to his uncle.  
  
"Hello, William dear," Joyce laughed, giving the young man a kiss.  
  
His cheerful expression fell the moment he saw Buffy standing behind Joyce.  
  
"Um, William," began Mr. Giles, blissfully clueless at the emotions playing between the two, "You did meet Miss Summers the other day, didn't you?"  
  
"Yeah," gulped the blond, his eyes wide with panic.  
  
"Briefly," Buffy muttered, her phrasing purposely monotone.  
  
Always able to read between the lines, Joyce stepped in.  
  
"Rupert, why don't you show me the book in the back room," insisted Joyce, simultaneously pulling him in the direction of his office. Before she left, she whispered to Buffy, "Please don't kill him."  
  
After the older people left, the two blondes didn't talk for quite some time. Her gaze wandering around the room, Buffy refused to make eye contact. Spike, on the other hand, studied the pregnant girl, racking his brain for something to say that would fill the uncomfortable silence.  
  
"Listen," he attempted, looking down at the floor when she turned her attention towards him.  
  
"What?" She was searching for some reason to hate the man, but was coming up empty.  
  
"'M sorry about Saturday. I was a complete prat, and had no right to yell at you, or to make you cry."  
  
"It's ok." Buffy was shocked to discover that, despite her earlier plans to beat him bloody, she was truly fine with it now.  
  
"You're not just sayin' that to get me off your back, because I really am sorry."  
  
Lightly chuckling at his sad puppy look, Buffy grinned. "No, it's really ok. I suppose it didn't help that I had an attack of the dumb blonde that day, but it's all happy now."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Really."  
  
He relaxed, sighing heavily as he ran his fingers through his gelled hair. "So, do you think we can start over?"  
  
"Sure." She reached out her right hand. "Buffy Summers, or 'bint' as you called me."  
  
"William Giles, or Spike." He lightly took her outstretched hand. "Professional shithead. Never call me William, or then I will really make you cry."  
  
"Yeah, I believe that," Buffy said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.  
  
The uncomfortable silence returned when the greeting ended, both searching for something to say.  
  
"How about we go see what the two old fogies are up to," suggested Spike.  
  
Laughing, the two went off in the direction where Mr. Giles and Joyce headed off.  
  
They were both leaning over Mr. Giles mahogany desk, intensely studying a certain page in the book like it were the secret of life.  
  
"This is amazing," Joyce breathed out. "You say you received two other books like it?"  
  
"Actually, I have a second edition translation that comes from the Burgundy region, and an actual manuscript from the 1400's by a Parisian monk," explained the librarian, turning a page which, at least to Buffy, looked even more boring than the last one.  
  
"Whacha got there?" she asked, making the adults look up.  
  
Giles removed his glasses, polishing the lenses using the corner of his coat. "This is a rare journal from France, describing and classifying religious art."  
  
"Signed up for the Time Life collection?" teased the young woman.  
  
"Um, I . . . pardon me?" Giles was truly confused.  
  
"She's kidding, Rupert," Joyce explained, never taking her eyes off the page. "I can't believe you found this." Finally, she looked up. "We're going to have to cut this short, Rupert. I promised Buffy I'd take her to lunch."  
  
"No, I'll be alright," Buffy exclaimed, seeing that tiny bit of regret Joyce was attempting to mask.  
  
"It's fine, Buffy, we made plans."  
  
"We'll do it some other time."  
  
"But I made a promise to you."  
  
"Don't worry about me."  
  
"I'm not worried about you."  
  
"HEY!" yelled Spike, silencing the two. "Everyone's fine! Do we all understand?" When no one responded, he continued. "Joyce, you stay here and read that god-awful boring book. I will take Buffy to lunch. That way, everyone gets what they want, and no one has hurt feelings. Good?"  
  
Before anyone could answer, he gently grabbed Buffy's arm and quickly pulled her through the library and out the front door. * * *  
  
Imzadi- I'm glad you like this way of portraying Joyce. I do love that woman. She will have a major part in future chapters. Also, an Angel- centric chapter won't happen until #12. I'm sorry hon.  
  
TwiztidJuggalette- Yeah, Buffy has it pretty shitty, doesn't she. Glad you empathize.  
  
Azrielle- First off, your name is awesome! Secondly, glad you like.  
  
Fan Reader- I try to write and update as much as possible. Actually, I have five chapters archived ahead, and I only post when I get to write a new one, just so if I have major writer's block, I can post the archived. 


	8. Part of Something

Disclaimer: I will not claim to own anything of this story. Joss Whedon created the characters, Billie Letts wrote "Where the Heart Is", which this is based on.  
  
Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language.  
  
Author's Notes: Yah! New chapter! Good for all! Ok, this is a continuation of chapter seven, and we get to re-meet some characters, as well as some new, but important people. And, I know that some people must be wondering about Buffy's condition. Yes, I know that pregnancy requires a lot of pre- natal care, but I am asking my precious readers to suspend reality. It will be addressed in a few chapters. I hope you find this chapter amusing, fun, and very important to the plot. Or, I at least hope you like it. Remember, I am a review whore, and love it when you say good things about my shitty dribblings. Kisses to all.  
  
PS: I have no pride, and I am not ashamed to admit that I took a bit of the Magic Box conversation from the first two episodes of Buffy, "Welcome to the Hellmouth" and "The Harvest". ____________________________________________________________________________  
  
* *  
  
*  
  
Chapter Eight- Part Of Something  
  
Spike had finally slowed down once the two turned the corner away from Main Street.  
  
"Sorry 'bout that, luv," he sighed. "Every once in a while, Joyce like to play martyr. Hope you don't mind a change in plans."  
  
"As long as the little one and I get some food, it'll all be fine," replied Buffy, glad Joyce had gotten to do what she wanted.  
  
"Little one?" Spike frowned, trying to assess what that meant.  
  
Shocked, Buffy pointed to her round belly. "You didn't think this was all ME, did you!?!"  
  
"Oh god, sorry," he quickly tried to reassure her. "Think I'm the one having an attack of the dumb blond today."  
  
Not replying, Buffy punched him on the shoulder. She grinned when he cried out in pain.  
  
Walking down the sunny streets for a bit in silence, Spike finally came to a stop outside of a store called the Magic Box.  
  
"If you're through with playing Beat the Spike, do you wanna have lunch?" he inquired, opening the swinging door.  
  
Surprising the man by sticking her tongue at him, Buffy entered through the door he held open.  
  
The Magic Box was unlike anything Buffy had ever seen before. Knick-knacks from around the world were displayed on tables covered with shimmering cloth, and ornate glass cases. Large jars were filled with herbs, spices, potent flowers, and other things she couldn't identify. Cases lined the walls, stocked with books of various shapes, sizes and colors. There were stairs at the back, leading up to a loft, which also had bookshelves and other items.  
  
Spike walked through the store as if it were the library, taking no real notice at the unusual array of things crowding in the space. He also ignored a sign in the back, clearly proclaiming "Please Wait To Be Seated".  
  
The back of the shop opened up to a large courtyard with brick-lined ground. Wrought iron tables and chairs were perfectly placed in the cozy area, as if someone measured out the distance with a ruler. This restaurant was nestled between the back of the Magic Box, two other shops, while the remaining side opened up to the street.  
  
"Hey, Anya," yelled Spike, ignoring the party of four quietly sipping on their drinks, "Gotta get some service here, or we're walking!"  
  
Buffy stared at him questioningly. When he saw her expression, he burst out laughing.  
  
"Don't worry pet, I do this all the time," he explained, leading her to a table in the corner partially shaded by a potted tree. She had her back to the street, while he sat across from her.  
  
Before anything else could be said, a woman burst out from the Magic Box back exit, carrying four plates of food, her brown hair bouncing as she went to the other tables.  
  
"There you go, made professionally and efficiently by Hallie. Make sure to give her a good tip, seeing how I don't like to pay her." Then, leaving the customers speechless, she went over to Buffy and Spike's table. "What do you want William?" she sighed, very annoyed.  
  
"Just wanted to bathe in your radiance as always, my dear woman," he responded.  
  
Rolling her eyes, she turned to the young blonde girl. "Who's this?" she bluntly asked.  
  
"This is my new friend, Buffy Summers." Spike then introduced the woman as Anya Jenkins.  
  
Anya was at least ten years older than Spike, nearly fifteen more than Buffy. Her style was reminiscent of the 30's and 40's, wearing a white flowered-print dress that fell to her knees, her hair done in a current take on the bob. And she was very pretty, her large brown eyes radiating out from her face.  
  
She examined Buffy carefully, scrunching up her forehead when her eyes came to rest on her protruding stomach.  
  
"Would Spike happen to be the father of your child?"  
  
Buffy felt her mouth drop open at the statement, as did Spike's.  
  
"Anya-"  
  
"I told you for years, 'This is what happens when you follow your penis around!'" interrupted the brunette. "Rupert is going to be very disappointed in you. But we have enough time to plan a wedding before the birth. It'll have to be a Justice of the Peace, and we don't have enough time to get a dress. And what are we going to do about the flowers . . ."  
  
"ANYA!" bellowed Spike, once again interrupting the other party's dining.  
  
"Spike isn't my baby's father," Buffy explained quietly.  
  
Considering the statement, Anya finally nodded. "Then who is the father?"  
  
"Anya," Spike once again interjected, "Why don't you go get some menus for my guest and I?"  
  
"That depends," she replied, "Are you going to pay this time?"  
  
Taking his wallet out of his back pocket, he waved it around her face. Anya ran to the back, grinning like a crazy person.  
  
"Is she always like that?" asked Buffy, watching the woman hurry away.  
  
Spike nodded. "Long as I've known her. She's kinda my aunt."  
  
"You're kidding! You mean, she and Mr. Giles are married."  
  
"No. The preferred term in this neighborhood is, 'Living in sin.' Big scandal for all the blue-haired ninnies to gossip about while they play canasta. She's 'bout 15 years younger than Rupes. They were going through the awkward courtship phase when I moved here, then she moved in when I was fourteen. But, they love each other, and she's nice enough, so I didn't care. Great bird, just as long as she keeps quiet."  
  
Then his face fell as he glanced to the street. "Great. Just the way I wanted my afternoon to go," he moaned.  
  
Buffy turned in the direction where he looked, immediately recognizing Xander Harris run across the street, a pregnant woman following slowly behind him.  
  
"Captain Peroxide!" he exclaimed, hopping the iron fence that separated the restaurant from the sidewalk and street. "And Buffy Summers!" he added, at once remembering her.  
  
Looking between them, Spike asked, "You know each other?"  
  
"We go way back," explained Buffy with a laugh.  
  
Xander added, "Yeah, there was that time where we grew apart, became our own people, but now, it's like no time has passed."  
  
Both laughed at their private joke, until Buffy noticed Xander's clothes. Instead of the shorts and Hawaiian shirt he wore the first time they met, he was dressed in tan pants and shirt, the uniform of-  
  
"YOU'RE A POLICE OFFICER?!" Buffy blurted out, her eyes wide when she saw the badge pinned to his shirt pocket.  
  
"Actually," Xander replied, trying hard to keep a straight face, "this is just my costume. I'm a male stripper."  
  
If this were a cartoon world, Buffy's mouth would have flopped open.  
  
"You'll have to forgive Xander's unique brand of humor." Spike was shaking his head, sighing heavily. "It's a style I like to call 'Not Very Funny'."  
  
Xander made a face. "I am extremely funny!"  
  
"Sure, mate." Spike reached up and patted his head. "You're *very* amusing."  
  
"I'm funnier than you are!"  
  
"'M a bleeding riot!"  
  
"Xander!" A voice interrupted the arguing friends, high-pitched with a demanding air.  
  
The three turned to the voice. It was the pregnant woman who had been behind Xander. Her arms were crossed, and she glared evilly at him, then motioned to the swinging gate of the fence.  
  
In a robotic manner, Xander hurried over, then held open the gate for the woman. Smoothing out her light blue maternity sundress, which stood out against her olive-colored skin and dark brown hair, she gracefully waddled through the gate, and approached the table.  
  
As she came over, Spike stood up. The two embraced, and the woman gave him a friendly peck on the cheek.  
  
"Afternoon, princess," he said cheerfully, while Xander pulled two chairs from a nearby table over to theirs.  
  
"You too," she replied, sitting in the chair that Xander, ever much the whipped husband, held open for her. After seating herself, she turned to Buffy. "Since these two morons don't have manners, I'll introduce myself. Cordelia Chase-Harris." She held out a well-manicured hand.  
  
When Buffy gave her name, Cordelia's eyes grew wide.  
  
"So, you're the famous Buffy Summers! Xander's fallen completely in love with you. He's amazed that a pregnant lady can even get off the couch, much less go shopping by herself."  
  
Her husband looked offended. "Cordy, I never said-"  
  
"Xander!" she interrupted, "Could I talk without you interrupting me all the time?"  
  
"But Cordy-"  
  
"Shhh. My time to talk is now."  
  
Before a fight could erupt between the married couple, Anya came back, a tray of water glasses and a pitcher in one hand, menus tucked under her free arm.  
  
"Awn, why didn't you tell me that Mr. and Mrs. Whelp were coming here today," asked Spike harshly while the woman passed out glasses.  
  
"Because I knew you and your guest would leave, therefore eliminating my chances of retaining your payment for food and services rendered."  
  
"What's a matter, Spiky? Don't like us anymore?" teased Xander as he flipped through the menu.  
  
"Just didn't want Buffy to have the misfortune of meeting my good friends," answered Spike, slyly winking at Buffy.  
  
"Will there be anyone else joining you today?" asked Anya, pulling out a small notepad.  
  
"Nope."  
  
"You mean, Rupert won't be coming?"  
  
Shaking his head, Spike set down his menu. "Sorry, but Joyce is trying to seduce him today by pouring over manuscripts."  
  
Pausing, Anya considered the statement.  
  
"That won't work," the woman huffily responded. "You see, Rupert and Joyce bond over boring things, like books and music. But I am the one that gives him his nightly orgasms, so the chances of him leaving me are slim."  
  
The sound of a pin dropping could be heard as the patrons stared at Anya, shocked at her lack of tact.  
  
Smiling, Anya pulled a pencil out from her hair, and positioned the tip right above her notepad.  
  
"Who's hungry?"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
It was nearly nine at night when Buffy made her way back to her pseudo-home at Wal-Mart. The entire day had been a blur. She was surprised how easily she fit in with her new friends.  
  
Throughout the meal, the Spike, Xander and Cordelia teased each other mercilessly, and Buffy soon found herself joining in, helping Cordelia make fun of the two men.  
  
During the lunch, which, for her, was a bleu cheese and steak salad, she received an invitation to have dinner with the Harris' the next evening. Then Cordelia asked, before she headed off to her doctor's appointment, if Buffy wanted to have lunch with her in two days.  
  
"I get so bored since I started maternity leave," she sighed. "Everyone's at work in the afternoon! I can't get even Xander to play hooky. So you will have to keep me entertained!"  
  
They paid the check, even though Buffy secretly felt bad for not chipping in, and said their good-byes. But Anya stopped Buffy and Spike before they could leave, and handed them four plastic bags stuffed with food for Giles and Joyce, who were still engrossed in the manuscript.  
  
Buffy had planned to leave after distributing the To-Go bags, but she threw whatever notion she had of sneaking away when Joyce announced she was having an impromptu dinner party at her home. Clem was going to make lasagna, and Anya had already called Giles to say she had no desire to cook that evening.  
  
"All we need to make sure the dinner is complete," Joyce explained as she opened a box of French fries, "Is that Buffy comes."  
  
It was a long time before Buffy could successfully pull herself away from the party, long after the group had second helpings of Clem's fabulous lasagna, and a dessert of Anya's cherry cheesecake. Everyone begged the blonde to stay, and when she couldn't be persuaded, offers for a ride home flew at her.  
  
"I don't live far away," she explained, swinging her purse strap over her shoulder while managing to give Giles a kiss on the cheek.  
  
She was starting to hate the whole lying aspect of her new life. Now that she was starting to fit in, she remembered that she was secretly living in a store.  
  
Street lights shining behind her, she cautiously creeped through the back alleyway behind the Wal-Mart, hoping not to run into an employee on a smoke break or hauling the garbage away.  
  
Finally convinced she was safe as she snuck in the back door, her thoughts drifted to the afternoon and the friends she made. Not once in her 17 years had she met a group of people so warm, so welcoming, that she felt an instant connection with all of them.  
  
Wrapped up in her musings, she took no notice of when the bird, who had been previously resting on the chain link fence facing the ally, was startled and took off in flight.  
  
She also didn't notice the person that had accidentally scared the bird. The person who was still there, leaning up against the fence, watching her every move while taking a slow drag off a cigarette, the orange tip glowing in the evening darkness.  
  
Once the heavy metal door closed behind Buffy, the figure dropped the cigarette, crushing it under the left heel of a shit-kicker boot. Waiting a few more moments, just to make sure she didn't come out, the figure finally turned around and cut across the overgrown field he had been standing in, black duster trailing behind him. ____________________________________________________________________________  
  
Leann2- I really hope you liked this chapter. Thank you for reviewing.  
  
Azrielle- God, your name is so awesome, I can't get over it! Glad you think this story's good.  
  
FirstAidKid- I accept the fact that you do not like fluffy Spuffy. Everyone has his or her faults (but I still love you!). No, Dawn is not related to Joyce. As some of my "followers" know, Dawn is my least favorite of the BTVS and ATS characters, next to fucking bratty Kennedy and mondo-slut Eve, who I will not even stoop to write about. So, whenever Dawn is in one of my stories, she has either a small part, a bit cameo, or she is dead. In this particular one, she is just some random slut who we will never see again.  
  
Kdavid323- I enjoy happy endings, so I promise that everything will resolve itself in the end. And, I try to update as much as possible. I won't promise I will, but I will try.  
  
Slytherin's Silver Dragon- I'm so glad you love my story. I will try to update sooner, hon!  
  
Imzadi- So, we meet again. Just kidding. I hope your cool with the Giles- Anya pairing. Jenny will be mentioned later in the story, as I explain Giles's past, but she will not make an appearance. As for "Most Rare Vision", as soon as I get home tonight, I'm going to start writing a new chapter. I cannot deprive you of Lindsey; I learned that lesson the hard way. I do a happy dance for you, and hope you like where the story goes. 


	9. A Special Day

Disclaimer: I will not claim to own anything of this story. Joss Whedon created the characters, Billie Letts wrote "Where the Heart Is", which this is based on.  
  
Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language.  
  
Author's Notes: Hello, my precious! More another chapter to start the weekend. I have a pretty good feeling that you'll like this one. Let's just say, without ruining it, that things are about to change for the better. Sorry it's so long, but it's not as bad as the chapter I archived just a few days ago. Anyway, here it is, I hope you love it. Kisses!  
  
PS: Angel (no, he's just a figment of Buffy's imagination in this chapter) and Buffy say two lines that I stole from Linkin Park's "Pushing Me Away". Go, listen to it. It's a very good, sad song. That's all I have to say for now. ____________________________________________________________________________  
  
* *  
  
*  
  
Chapter Nine- A Special Day  
  
If the United States government decided to take a break everyday something even remotely special happened, the entire year would be taken off. Nothing would happen, because certain days are important to certain people, whether it be birthdays, anniversaries, religious holidays, paydays, and so on.  
  
When Buffy began the day that July morning, knowing it had been one month since she made a home in the Wal-Mart, she wasn't sure if it was a day to celebrate.  
  
On the negative side, she had to remind herself that she had no actual home. She couldn't get mail, have friends over, or even register to vote when she turned eighteen in November, if she actually wanted to vote. And she knew that, any day, she would go into labor. The hot, humid days were taking a toll on her body, and every single joint was swollen and painful. Just to walk downtown was tiring.  
  
But, as she pushed open the door to the library that morning, the light buzz of the air conditioning providing little comfort, she knew that getting stuck in Sunnydale might be the best thing that ever happened to her.  
  
"Hello?" she called out, but it echoed through the empty building.  
  
She then heard laughter coming from behind the closed door of the reading room.  
  
"Is anyone in here?" asked the young woman, opening the large wooden door a crack.  
  
"Nope! Don't come in! No one's here!"  
  
Buffy pushed the door open more, revealing a grinning Spike and a smiling Tara.  
  
"Asshole."  
  
Both he and Tara stood up. "Nice to see you too, luv." Then, he pulled the pregnant girl into a hug.  
  
"Hi Buffy," Tara whispered, also giving her friend a hug.  
  
During the past few weeks, Buffy had been introduced, and in the case of Tara, re-introduced to the people of Sunnydale. It seemed that she always had somewhere to be, someone to hang out with, someone keeping her company. Three days this week, she, Cordelia, and Tara had tea at the Magic Box during Tara's lunch hour.  
  
"Why aren't you at work, Miss McClay? There might be some desperate person out there who needs potting soil or . . . slug poison," teased Buffy.  
  
Since she felt so comfortable around her new friend, she flipped off the blonde.  
  
"Giles asked me to look at his hydrangeas before I got to work, but I had to spend a little time with my honey." She gave a blushing Spike a kiss on his cheek.  
  
"You know," Buffy began, sitting in one of the over-stuffed chairs, "I really think you and Spike should get together. You might be the one person who keeps his god-damn mouth shut."  
  
"Ouch! That really hurts." Clutching his chest, Spike fell into another chair, his face distorted in fake pain.  
  
Tara laughed. "I don't think Spike and I would work out."  
  
"Oh, can't you just give it a chance?"  
  
Spike shook his head. "Nope. Tara belongs to that large, prestigious club of women who will never go out with me."  
  
"Actually," Tara corrected, "I belong to that smaller club of women who will never go out with men."  
  
He waved his hand in dismissal. "Tomato, tah-matah. One less girl who will sleep with me."  
  
Both females laughed as Spike began to pout, his lower lip slightly sticking out.  
  
"And on that lovely note, I have to get to work." Tara picked up her large, hippie style bag, gave both her friends a wave, then walked out of the room.  
  
"So, what are your plans for today," asked Buffy, stretching her legs out on a nearby ottoman.  
  
"Organize, shelve, and other boring library related shit. You?"  
  
"A fun-filled day of helping you and Giles out, then dinner at Cordelia and Xander's."  
  
Nodding, he began to absently pick at the arm of the chair. "Shouldn't you be going to a doctor soon?"  
  
Her eyes widened. "Why?"  
  
"Well, Cordy's goin' every other day. You're farther along, so shouldn't you be going?"  
  
"Um . . ."  
  
"I have a friend, Willow. She's a resident at the hospital, but she's got some connections with the baby doctors. I could help you set up an appointment."  
  
"I . . . well, I . . ."  
  
She was caught in another lie. Most of the time, she would fabricate some story, making up some answer that would satisfy the person. On rare occasions . . .  
  
"Ah, Buffy, you're here."  
  
She'd get interrupted.  
  
Giles walked in the room, flipping through a beaten up periodical while munching on an apple.  
  
Glad for the distraction, Buffy hastily stood up, greeting the older man and idly chatting.  
  
If she had any idea how much Spike knew, she probably would have come clean. But as it was, she thought her secret was exactly that: a secret.  
  
Frowning, he observed the young girl talking to his uncle. She didn't know that he would follow her home every night, making sure she got in safely, or that he made sure she had somewhere to spend the afternoon and places to eat. Not that anyone was complaining. It seemed that his circle of friends had taken to the lively girl, in some ways adopting her. He never told them why, just that she had no one else to be with, and he was worried.  
  
Giles, Xander, and Clem were blissfully clueless. They liked Buffy, so having her around was no problem. But Joyce, Cordelia, Anya, and Tara had one theory as to why Spike was so protective when it dealt with Buffy. And in a way, they were right, but that's a completely different story, for a completely different time.  
  
"William, we should probably get started," Giles said, dragging Spike out from his deep thoughts.  
  
"Right." He stood, following his uncle and Buffy out to the bookshelves.  
  
"Buffy, I need you to go through the records, and check in the returned books. You remember how to do that?"  
  
"Uh huh."  
  
"And William, you need to take care of something upstairs before you start your daily work."  
  
"Got it."  
  
Buffy saw some sort of unspoken agreement between pass between the two men, but did not ask. She wasn't supposed to know.  
  
"Alright, let's get started."  
  
All three turned in opposite directions, going towards their particular areas.  
  
Spike stopped and wheeled around, about to ask Giles a question, when he saw Buffy double over, clutching her stomach.  
  
Giles saw it too, because he dropped the book he was holding.  
  
"Buffy!"  
  
Immediately, they were at her side, Giles running a hand along her back while Spike kneeled in front of her.  
  
Her face was twisted, and she was biting down on her lower lip, occasionally moaning in pain.  
  
As soon as it started, it passed, and then she righted herself.  
  
"I'll be fine," she gasped, rubbing her temples.  
  
The nephew and uncle exchanged expressions.  
  
"Luv, that didn't look exactly right," Spike whispered, standing up.  
  
Giles agreed. "Something like that shouldn't happen."  
  
Trying to reassure the two, an article she had read long ago popped into her mind.  
  
"Actually, I think it's just indigestion."  
  
Frowning, Spike cocked his head to the side. "Indigestion?"  
  
"Mmmhmm."  
  
Another look passed between the relatives, and seemed to set them at ease.  
  
"If something else like that happens, you make sure to tell us," Giles requested, every bit the lecturing parent.  
  
"No problem."  
  
Giles laughed, pulling her into a quick hug.  
  
"Enough drama for today, let's get back on task."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
# # # # #  
  
The chain pulling them up to the peak made a clacking noise, a rhythm that could be put to music. Clack-clack-clack-clack-clack. Up went Colossus, taking another trip of terror.  
  
Buffy took this moment of peace to gaze at her companions. Angel sat to her left, staring down at the park below and all of the people, who looked like ants.  
  
She smiled at him. He was always observing. Always a thought whirling around his brain.  
  
There was a cry to her right. Not a scream, but a cry of fear, high and small.  
  
Turning her head, she finally saw the source of the cry. It was a little baby, safely strapped in a car seat. The baby was wrapped in a blanket, which was colorless, gray.  
  
"Why are you so far away?" asked Angel. Buffy turned her attention back to him. He was, indeed, far away, his seat miles away.  
  
"Because that's where you want me to be," she whispered, her voice unable to force out any loud sound.  
  
"I never said that."  
  
"It was implied."  
  
"Implications can sometimes prove false."  
  
Laughing, Buffy let her head tilt up, the bright sun warming her.  
  
"You're not much of a lawyer."  
  
"Good thing I'm a dentist," he responded.  
  
She turned back to him, but he was gone.  
  
"The sacrifice of hiding in a lie." Buffy was calling out to air, and the cart was at the top, ready to fall.  
  
"Actually," his voice was still there, although it was hollow, blowing in the wind, a ghostly remainder. "The sacrifice is never knowing . . ."  
  
"Never knowing what?"  
  
But, she shut her mouth when a new screaming intruded, this one louder, feminine.  
  
"What is that, Angel?"  
  
His voice was all but gone, although his final word echoed in her ears.  
  
"You."  
  
# # # # #  
  
As Buffy drifted into consciousness, the screaming went along with her. It wasn't until she felt an incredible stabbing pain in her stomach that she realized who the screaming came from.  
  
"Oh, god!"  
  
Gritting her teeth, she closed her eyes, praying to every deity that she had ever heard of that the pain was a dream.  
  
Although it felt like a million years, the pain finally passed, and she opened her eyes.  
  
Wal-Mart was dark, only the light shining from street lamps outside illuminating the empty building. She could hear heavy rainfall pounding against the glass windows.  
  
She sat up, pulling the sleeping bag open, and used her suddenly weak muscles to stand.  
  
"What's going on," she murmured to herself as she crept to the patio table. A few pregnancy magazines and books littered the glass, along with a camping lantern, which she flipped on.  
  
Before she could open up any of her guides, her eyes fell upon the sleeping bag she had been sleeping in moments ago.  
  
The entire bottom half was soaked in a clear fluid.  
  
"NO!"  
  
Another pain raced through her body, focusing on her swollen stomach, and shooting out to her fingers and toes. She doubled over, supporting her pregnant belly.  
  
Once again, it subsided, but she began to cry. She felt so cold, so scared.  
  
She began to wander the store, examining the shelves as if there was some magical device that could help her. Even as she walked, a wave of suffering would hit her, and her legs would turn into cooked spaghetti noodles.  
  
Why didn't she listen to Spike? He had been so concerned, asking if he could take her to the hospital. But she had said no.  
  
"I'm fine!" she had said. "God, you're such a baby!"  
  
More tears flooded down her face. Before she had left for the Harris home, Spike offered her a place to stay the night. He had known something was wrong.  
  
One more wave hit her, but this time it was so intense, she fell to the cold floor in Aisle 6, cleaning supplies. At least it wasn't Aisle 5.  
  
Cries filled the ghostly store, but there was no one to help her.  
  
It passed again, but there was something new ringing through the night, drowning out the pouring rain. A tapping.  
  
From her position on the floor, she could see the main entrance of Wal- Mart. Someone was outside, tapping on the window. But, it was so dark outside, that she couldn't see whom it was.  
  
"Please!" she cried out, but her voice was hoarse from all the screaming.  
  
The figure tapped once more, then turned and left.  
  
"Come back. Please, come back!"  
  
Alone once again, she felt herself give up.  
  
Suddenly, a deafening crash broke the silence. Buffy looked back to the entrance, and saw a figure step through the now broken pane of glass, a large cement brick lying among the glass.  
  
The figure had been using their long, black coat to as a shield from the rain. Once inside the dry store, the figure removed the coat from their head, revealing a head of mussed up platinum white curls.  
  
Spike was at her side in an instant, cradling her head in his lap as he let her hand grasp his.  
  
"Glad to see me?" he asked, but his cheery attitude fell as Buffy went into another contraction.  
  
Curling her toes inward, and grinding her teeth, she began to squeeze his hand. Halfway through, she wondered if she might break his fingers, but a look at his face showed little discomfort. Instead, he was using his free hand to caress her cheek, all of his focus on her.  
  
Once he felt her grip relax, he let go of her hand, and brought it to her face, gently forcing her to look at him.  
  
"How far apart are they?"  
  
She couldn't respond. The tears were coming again, only this time they were of relief.  
  
"Look at me, luv," he requested, kind but firm. "I need to see how far along you are. Is that alright?"  
  
When she nodded, he took off his leather duster, rolled it into a ball, and made it into a pillow for her head. Silently, he was at her legs, carefully putting her feet on the ground and spreading her knees apart.  
  
Asking once more time for permission, he pulled off her placenta-soaked panties and throwing them off to the side.  
  
He sat there for a moment, intently studying and frowning.  
  
"Spike . . . wha'?" She was drenched in sweat, both from terror and the pain.  
  
"'M not a doctor, luv," he explained honestly, a tiny edge of fear showing in his eyes, "Donno about the centimeters and stuff like that. But I can see the head."  
  
"Oh, god."  
  
He was wearing a black T-shirt, which he quickly removed, revealing a white undershirt. He then took off one of his shoes, and began unlacing it while he talked.  
  
"In a sec, you're gonna have to push. Can you do that for me?"  
  
The fear held back her voice, so she could only nod.  
  
Placing the shirt and shoelace to his right, he went back to her opening. But, while he kneeled in front of her, he reached out his hand, and she took it.  
  
"Ok . . . push!"  
  
Gathering her strength, she raised her head and tightened her abdomen, pushing down as hard as she could.  
  
"Stop!" he yelled after a while, and Buffy let go, her head falling backwards.  
  
"Still with me?"  
  
"Mmmhmm," she whimpered.  
  
"Gonna have to do it again. Ready? NOW!"  
  
Her toes dug into the linoleum, her fingernails drawing blood from his palm, but he was concentrated on delivering the baby, nothing else.  
  
"Stop!"  
  
She couldn't do it again. She couldn't find the conviction, the will, to push once more.  
  
Spike obviously saw the defeat on her face, because he jumped to her side, cradling her sweaty face in his hands.  
  
"Luv, it's almost over. You just need to push once more!"  
  
"I can't."  
  
"Buffy."  
  
He was so calm, so gentle with her. Not one man she had known had ever handled her this way.  
  
"I know you can do this. Be my brave girl."  
  
When she sat up, pushing the palms of her hands into the ground, he kissed her lightly on the cheek before returning to the baby.  
  
"Just once more, luv."  
  
"Ok."  
  
"Push."  
  
It was the most pain she'd ever felt. Worse than breaking her leg in fifth grade, worse than the cramps the morning after she lost her virginity, worse than Big Bill's knife ripping the muscles of her arm apart. This pain was above it all.  
  
Spike didn't tell her to stop. He was hovering over something near her legs, his hands flying everywhere.  
  
"Is it ok?" she meekly asked, her voice barely a whisper.  
  
A whimper answered her, followed then by an unrestrained cry.  
  
He picked up the crying baby, a shoelace dangling from the umbilical cord, wrapped in the warm T-shirt.  
  
"Your little girl's perfect."  
  
"Girl?"  
  
"A beautiful little girl." Spike was beaming as he placed the baby on her mother's chest.  
  
Before anyone could say anything else, Spike heard the sirens of the police cars responding to the silent alarm that was triggered when he broke the pane of glass.  
  
"I'll be back. Have to go explain this to the cops. You'll be ok?" he asked getting ready to stand up.  
  
She didn't answer back immediately. Her attention had been diverted from the baby to a package of laundry detergent nearby. Aurora Fresh.  
  
"What does Aurora mean?"  
  
"What?" he asked.  
  
"Aurora."  
  
Grinning, he kissed her forehead. "Means daylight."  
  
She tried to smile, but the world soon fell black, and Buffy Summers, seventeen years old, homeless, and a mother of a little girl, passed out on the floor of the Sunnydale Wal-Mart.  
  
EmilyTheStrange1: OMG! I love you too! Thank you for reviewing!  
  
masaarah: I guess, since you are reading this note, you realize the benefit of Buffy's secret living arrangements being figured out. Ha ha! I'm not really clever.  
  
spufette: I'm so tickled (that's a stupid word) that you love this story. FLUFFY SPUFFY ROCKS! And, I too adore the Xander/Spike friendship, and creepy stalker Spike. I hoped you liked this one, with my favorite version, hero Spike!  
  
Atterb: I'm glad you think I'm doing such a good job at portraying Joss's wonderful characters. Thank you for saying so.  
  
AcidGirl: Hurrah! I'm on a favorites list! I love it! But, really, the only reason why this story is so good is because I stole the plot from two wonderful sources. Go see the movie or read the book. It's ten times better!  
  
Leann2: When I first saw Tabula Rasa, I nearly wet my pants at how funny Giles and Anya were together. I'm happy you think so too.  
  
FirstAidKid: Hurrah for you for skipping school! I wish I had the guts to do that, but I'm really paranoid about missing something important, and I pay way too much for me to ski[ anything. Relish the skippage while you can. Anyway, thank you for flattering me in an off-handed kind of way.  
  
Imzadi: Fuck Dawn! Fuck her up her stupid ass! I took pregnant Cordelia from first season Cordelia, imagining what that selfish and bitchy girl would have been like if she had gotten knocked up. I, too, love Anya, and my sister and I cried when she was killed. Well, just to tell you, Most Rare Vision will be updated soon, and the Lindsey chapter will be appearing in two postings. Love you! 


	10. Daylight

Disclaimer: I will not claim to own anything of this story. Joss Whedon created the characters, Billie Letts wrote "Where the Heart Is", which this is based on.  
  
Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language.  
  
Author's Notes: Goodness, more to read. I was going to put up another chapter this weekend, but I was detained because I had to do some mall- shoppage and library research. I tell you, I hate writing papers for school. I do hope you approve of this chapter, and tell me so in reviews. I would say more, but I have to go leave for Shakespeare class soon, and my eyes are starting to cross. Well, please read and review! I love all of you!  
  
PS: Here is the thing- I've never met anyone from Alabama. My experiences with the state come from movies, and that song by Lynyrd Skynyrd. So, I have no personal biases towards the state. Don't write me hate letters saying that I portray people from Alabama as uber-religious hicks. They are not. Knowing the state of the people who write the letter is necessary to the plot, I assure you. ____________________________________________________________________________  
  
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Chapter Ten- Daylight  
  
"Looks like Miss Popular finally decided to wake up," a sarcastic feminine voice whined.  
  
Slowly peeling her heavy eyelids open, Buffy was assaulted with various shades of yellow. Yellow had never been one of her favorite colors. Yet, she found herself in a room, the walls painted a muted shade of daffodil, bright sunlight beaming through the window.  
  
It took her a moment to assess where she was. Although the decorator had attempted to make the room feel homey, the unmistakable smell and extreme cleanliness common in private hospital rooms was apparent. But, unlike the one other hospital room Buffy had been in long ago, every inch of this one was covered in baskets and bouquets of flowers, save one little tray to her right.  
  
A nurse, possibly the one who had woken her up, had pushed a large metal cart into the room, and placed a plastic wrapped plate onto the tray. A headband was keeping her long, blonde hair out of her face, and the extreme amount of makeup she wore made it hard to determine her age.  
  
"I hope you know that just because you're a celebrity, I won't treat you any different," the nurse commented without looking at Buffy.  
  
Before Buffy could respond, the nurse turned her cart around, and pushed it out the room. She brushed past a young woman in a white coat standing by the door, who had been watching the previous one-sided conversation.  
  
Quirking one eyebrow up, the woman entered, and began flipping through a clipboard that had been placed outside Buffy's room. As she read, she would occasionally push a strand of her red hair behind her ear.  
  
When she had finished reading, she glanced up at the girl, and smiled when they made eye contact.  
  
"Hello, Buffy," she said warmly, "I hope Sunday wasn't being an extreme bitch today."  
  
"Sunday?"  
  
"Nurse Sunday." As she mentioned the nurse's name, she rolled her eyes. "Sunday has a continuous case of PMS and is mean to everyone, so don't take it personal." She set the clipboard down next to Buffy's breakfast plate, and started examining the pink roses on Buffy's nightstand. "I'm Dr. Rosenburg, by the way."  
  
Buffy sat up, adjusting the pillows behind her back. "Where did all these flowers come from?"  
  
"Oh my goddess, just about everyone in the world! They've been coming in since the Today Show talked about you this morning."  
  
"Why would people send me flowers?"  
  
"Because you're a celebrity. Not everyone gives birth in a Wal-Mart. There's also a mob of reporters downstairs who want to talk to you, but security's taking care of them."  
  
Suddenly tired, Buffy glanced at the plate Sunday had brought in. She was also very hungry.  
  
"Is that my breakfast?" she asked in a small, child-like voice.  
  
Grinning, Dr. Rosenburg swung the tray over her patient's bed. Buffy tore off the plastic wrap, and began devouring the hot sausage links and miniature blueberry muffins.  
  
"I'm surprised your eating it," Dr. Rosenburg giggled, "The breakfasts aren't all that good. But I guess you're hungry."  
  
"Mmmhmm." Buffy was too busy chomping on a link to form actual words.  
  
Dr. Rosenburg opened Buffy's chart again, looking over a few pages. Buffy watched the doctor as she ate.  
  
When all of her food was gone, the young girl wiped her mouth. "How's the guy who . . .?"  
  
"Spike?" Willow interrupted, a flash of recognition sparking inside of her. "I wasn't on call when you two were brought in, but one of the residents told me he had to be restrained because he wouldn't let anyone but me take care of you."  
  
Buffy laughed, not just at the picture that popped up in her head, but at the ramblings of the redhead. "Your not the Willow he wanted me to see yesterday, are you?" she asked.  
  
"Guilty." Dr. Rosenburg blushed. "Spike's convinced I'm the best doctor in the world, even though I'm just a first year resident."  
  
"But he's fine?"  
  
"Yep, nothing cut, nothing bleeding."  
  
The room soon fell silent. Willow turned to her patient, and watched Buffy gnaw on her lower lip.  
  
"Something wrong," inquired the doctor.  
  
Hesitating, Buffy opened her mouth to speak, trying to find the words. "How much trouble am I in?"  
  
"Why would you be in trouble?"  
  
Buffy shrugged, choosing to stare at her feet, hidden under the hospital sheets. "I can't pay for anything."  
  
Willow sat down at the foot of the bed. "That's no problem . . ."  
  
"I owe the Wal-Mart at least six hundred dollars, probably more 'cause I ruined a sleeping bag with my damn placenta. Then, there's the fucking hospital bill that I'll have to pay."  
  
"Buffy . . ."  
  
"I have nothing! No job, no money, no place to live. And now, I have a baby to take care of."  
  
Patting Buffy's feet, Willow stood up.  
  
"I'll get you something that will make you feel better."  
  
The doctor walked out of the room, leaving the young girl alone with her thoughts. But Willow was back in a few seconds, carrying a small bundle wrapped in pink.  
  
"Shhh," she whispered to the bundle. "Someone's been missing you," Willow explained, placing it in Buffy's arms.  
  
True to the doctor's words, Buffy felt immediately better when she held her little girl. No bigger than a doll, she fit perfectly into her mother's arms, her pink face all scrunched up. Even just a few hours old, her head was matted in dark brown hair, courtesy of her father, but the little nose was all Summers.  
  
"Love at first sight?" Willow asked.  
  
Watching her little girl snuggle into her chest, seeking the warmth she had been so familiar with in the past nine months, Buffy felt tears stinging the corners of her eyes.  
  
"Big time."  
  
Willow resumed her place at the foot of the bed, and began stroking the brown hair atop the little girl's hair.  
  
"What are you going to call her?"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Dr. Rosenburg, or Willow as she told Buffy to call her, began chuckling.  
  
"What's so funny?" demanded Buffy, who had been filling out the birth certificate information, now watching the doctor's face turn red, matching her hair.  
  
"Nothing." She was holding the baby carefully, rocking her in one fluid movement. "Well, call your kid Aurora Summers, and see what happens."  
  
Throwing her pen onto the tray, Buffy fell back into the bed, crossing her arms. "If you know so much about naming kids, you do it!"  
  
Willow immediately sobered. "No, there is nothing wrong with naming her Aurora. But why don't you choose a middle name less . . . sunny."  
  
'A name that means something.' Buffy recalled Xander's words to her, and although it seemed like it happened a thousand years ago, it was still true.  
  
"Rose. Aurora Rose Summers."  
  
Grinning, Willow watched Buffy scribble the name onto the form, then go on with the other mandatory questions: mother's name, place of birth, social security number. Stuff she had to memorize while living in the foster care system.  
  
But, she stopped when she came to part two.  
  
"What's the matter?" Willow questioned.  
  
She hesitated. "They want to know about the father."  
  
Nodding, Willow stood, placing Aurora into her baby bed.  
  
"Well, what are you going to put down?"  
  
For at least an eternity, or realistically, for three seconds, Buffy stared at the question. Then, before she could back down, she scrawled N/A.  
  
Reaching her hand into Aurora's bed, Buffy began stroking her head. "Guess that means we're on our own, kiddo."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Although the hospital staff wasn't making it mandatory, they were practically begging Buffy to speak at the 3 P.M. press conference. Then, maybe the press would leave the waiting room and go back to hounding politicians and chasing police vehicles.  
  
It lasted no longer than five minutes, but the young mother felt drained when Sunday finally pushed her wheelchair out of the mini-circus.  
  
"Is it gonna be like that forever?" Buffy asked Willow, who was walking beside the wheel chair.  
  
"No," she responded, "They'll follow the story for a while, then find something more exciting to cover."  
  
The rest of the afternoon, and the next day, Buffy poured through the various letters that had arrived, addressed simply to The Wal-Mart Mommy and Baby.  
  
Most were sweet, written by school children or large families wishing the mother well. Some sent money, in case she needed it. A few offered homes for her, or asked if they could adopt Aurora. There was even one from a man in Ft. Worth, Texas, who had the growing suspicion that he was the father, and would give her $200 if she wouldn't tell his wife.  
  
But, there were some letters that were less than cordial. One shining example contained only a few sentences:  
  
GOD WILL PUNISH THE WHORE MOTHE. AND THAT BASTARD OF A CHILD WILL BURN IN HELL. -WASHOUGAL, ALABAMA.  
  
All of those notes were promptly thrown in the garbage.  
  
Through her readings, Buffy had visitors pop in occasionally. Tara walked in first, carrying a small teddy bear, and blushing because of it. Xander and Cordelia were next, and Cordelia proceeded to order the nurses on how to do their jobs while Buffy and Xander chatted. Before hours were over, Joyce and Clem arrived, and although Joyce lectured the girl, it was extremely pleasant. The next day, Giles and Anya visited briefly, and Giles explained that, although Spike would love to come see her, he had some business in Los Angeles to attend to.  
  
Noon came, and Buffy was absently eating her chicken salad sandwich and watching Jerry Springer on mute while Aurora slept, when a knock came at her door.  
  
Graham, an orderly who was acting as her security guard, poked his head in.  
  
"There's a Wesley Price here to see you."  
  
"Ok," she said, although she had no idea who this person was.  
  
A man in his early thirties walked through the door, dressed in a classy and expensive suit, carrying a large black leather briefcase. He approached the bed, and asked if he could sit down.  
  
When she nodded, he grabbed a nearby chair, then placed his briefcase on the ground next to him.  
  
"Before we begin, how are you feeling?" he asked politely.  
  
She shrugged. "Like I just pushed a watermelon out of a hole the size of my fist."  
  
This apparently caught him off guard.  
  
"Huh," he blurted out after a moment. "Wasn't expecting that."  
  
He reached up to his neck, and adjusted the green silk tie around his neck.  
  
"Well, Miss Summers, you're probably wondering who I am, and what I'm doing here. I am president of West Coast relations for the Wal-Mart Corporation."  
  
Something that could have originated from Buffy's throat fell deep into her stomach.  
  
"Ok," she began, "I am really, really sorry about sneaking into the store and living there. And I am going to pay back everything I've borrowed. It's just that, it's going to take some time. I have to find a job and a place to live. But, if you don't mind, I'll pay in installments or something like that, and you can charge interest if you wanna . . ."  
  
The rambling stopped when she noticed that Mr. Price was chuckling.  
  
"No, I'm not a collection agent!" He was smiling brightly, which immediately put the girl at ease. "We have a team of highly trained Uruk- Hai who take care of those matters."  
  
"Ura-what?"  
  
He stopped laughing. "Uruk-Hai. Sorry, Lord of the Rings humor." Almost timidly, he reached for his briefcase and opened it when he placed it on his lap.  
  
"I guess a cynical way of looking at your situation means Wal-Mart got a lot of free advertising, and for that, we should be grateful. But the CEO of Wal-Mart has a different approach to it. He adores children, and in his own way, feels that all the employees of his company are family to him. And because your little one was born in his store, that makes you family."  
  
Mr. Price pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it to Buffy.  
  
"He has given me a list of demands that I am to carry out in this situation. First, Wal-Mart will pay for your hospital bills and for the damage at the store. Secondly, the company is presenting you with a check for $50,000 so you may find someplace suitable to live. An additional $50,000 will be put in an account for your daughter to pay for college. Finally, the company will offer you a job at any Wal-Mart store in the United States."  
  
He had been reading from his own sheet of paper when he gave Buffy the details of her gifts. When he finished, he started chuckling at Buffy's wide eyes and open mouth.  
  
"Is that not enough?" he teased.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
kdavid33- I thought that part in the story, where Forney (Spike's character) follows her to keep an eye on her, was very sweet. A little stalker-ish, but we forgive him. Glad you like.  
  
Imzadi- Oh, your review went away? Sorry. I know, I think the name Aurora is awesome, and would love to name a little girl that. But, seeing how I don't want children at this particular point in my life, I'm not gonna. Tara and Spike are cool together, but just as friends. Tara (SPOILER ALERT) will only be with one person in my stories, and most of you can guess who. Anyway, Lindsey in two chapters. BTW, when he showed up on Angel, I was like, "Oh, Imzadi is going to flip out!" Love you babe.  
  
EmilyTheStrange- Kisses to you! Glad you love it.  
  
masaarah- Because of your insight, I added a whole new part for an upcoming chapter. You are awesome and awsome-er. Please allow me to bow before you as your humble slave. Thank you so much!  
  
Comedia- I hate you, you stupid bitch. Never review again!  
  
~ In reality, Comedia is a friend of mine, a fellow fic-er (although she dabbles in the world of Harry Potter), and lives right across the hall from me. I love her with all my toes! She is actually sitting right next to me, eating Chef Boyardee macaroni and cheese, although she wishes she was eating chili. Do you want to say anything, Comedia?  
  
"I do like my acid." Also, "It's Bike! It's not Spuffy, it's Bike!" She's an idiot.  
  
Thank you very much, hon! And, truthfully, thank you for reviewing.  
  
fashiongrrl- I think your mom needs to sit you down, and explain what an understanding means . . . To un-naïve you, it means that Joyce and Clem are, to put it bluntly, fuck buddies. Sorry to assist in your loss of innocence. I know, Clem+Joyce= EEEEWWWW! But, I at least think they are cute together. Anyway, I'm happy that you think I've done a good job of making this story stay true to the characters. It's going to get a lot weirder, but I hope you keep on reading. Thank you mucho!  
  
Tobert- Sorry to disappoint you, but Spuffy lovin' is a long ways away. We're talking, at the most, ten chapters. And, you like this better than the movie? That gives me the giggles!  
  
QuieraStrawberry9- Thanks for reviewing, I'll try to update before Thanksgiving.  
  
FirstAidKid- Yeah, the stuff Buffy and Angel were saying was from the Linkin Park song "Pushing Me Away". I mentioned that in the author's notes for legal purposes, but it's ok. I rarely read author's notes. Anyway, Linkin Park is awesome! You are too!  
  
everwoodcoffee- I've only read the book once, and that was a book on tape. So most of my story memory comes from watching the movie, and talking to Comedia. She has an obsessive memory of the book, and keeps criticizing me because I do things differently. Anyway, she's anal-retentive and nobody loves her. Thanks for reviewing and reading. 


	11. A Hurt and Hope

Disclaimer: I will not claim to own anything of this story. Joss Whedon created the characters, Billie Letts wrote "Where the Heart Is", which this is based on.  
  
Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language.  
  
Author's Notes: I've been nominated in the Barefoot Awards (in the category of Mommy Award)! This is my first nomination ever, and I love this! Thank you to whoever did that, you very awesome, special people! Go see the other nominees at the Barefoot Awards! This story has also been recommended for the month of November in the category of WIP at Recommend BTVS and ATS Fan Fiction by Iskandariya and Darkezza, who said some pretty flattering things about this story. Damnit, I am currently doing my happy dance as we speak. It's so cool. Go, visit both sites and read the other nominees stories! Anyway, new chapter! Have fun!  
  
PS: This dumb website won't let me post the website url's, so to link to them, check out my journal at OpenDiary.com under Lily-bug. This isn't some ploy to get you to read my crap. This is to cover my ass. ____________________________________________________________________________  
  
* *  
  
*  
  
Chapter Eleven- A Hurt and Hope  
  
"Need anything else?" asked the nurse as she set Buffy's lunch tray on the table.  
  
Shaking her head, Buffy turned her attention to Aurora, who had just finished eating her own lunch and was now fast asleep in her mother's arms.  
  
The nurse, her name unknown to the young girl, began heading to the door. "Well, if you need anything, just buzz. You check out tomorrow, don't you?"  
  
"Yeah," Buffy replied, although her tone was less joyful than the nurse, who bounced out the door to check on her next patient.  
  
Buffy and Aurora had been at the hospital for five days, which was the mandatory observation time for babies born outside Sunnydale University Hospital. One more day had been added by order of her doctor, in order to let the media attention dissipate.  
  
And he was right. As Willow predicted, the press found something new to cover (the tragic death of a local high school student) then the Wal-Mart mommy. During the evening news that night, there would only be one short snippet involving the Summers girls, and that would be the end of it.  
  
Aurora was now asleep, snuggling into her mother's warm body, her breathing slow and steady. Buffy herself was prepared to eat lunch, but a knock at the door stopped it.  
  
It was Graham, who was still keeping watch over her room.  
  
"There's a woman-"  
  
He was cut off when said woman brushed past him into the room.  
  
"I'll tell her myself," she demanded.  
  
Biting her lower lip, Buffy studied the older, blonde woman standing before her. The woman Buffy once called Mom.  
  
Darla Summers had always been a gorgeous woman. When she was Buffy's age, she could've run off with any guy that she chose, whether he was married or not. But time had not been kind to her. Her naturally tanned skin was wrinkled and leathered, common among people who have spent the last few years in the Florida sun. The nose, which was shared through the Summers genealogy, had been altered, as had her ass, boobs, and now white hair, which was teased to comical proportions on top of her head. Dressed in a pair of black spandex pants and a bright orange halter, she did not even remotely resemble the Darla Buffy remembered.  
  
"She's fine, Graham," Buffy felt her shoulders sag when she dismissed the orderly. There were other, more painful things she would rather go through than talk to her mother.  
  
Ignoring the two NO SMOKING signs posted in the room, Darla pulled out a cigarette from her leopard-print handbag while she studied the flower arrangements instead of talking to her daughter.  
  
When the silence became too much, Buffy finally broke it with a very important question.  
  
"Why are you here?"  
  
Darla, in Buffy's opinion, could have been a great actress, the way she pretended to be shocked at the statement.  
  
"Can't a mother be concerned about her own flesh and blood?" The cigarette ash was falling, unknown to the blonde woman, on the clean linoleum. "I saw your report on the news a few days ago, so I got some money and a plane ticket so I could visit you. See how you were."  
  
"Where'd you come from?"  
  
"Key West," she replied, taking a moment to decide if that was a correct statement. "Been working in a bar, living down there for a few months."  
  
"With Joe?"  
  
"Joe? Who the fuck's Joe?"  
  
Rolling her eyes, Buffy began to stroke Aurora's back. "Joe Nest, the guy you left with when you left . . ."  
  
Darla filled in the blank. "That bastard! I dumped his ass in Tennessee a long time ago."  
  
Her joyful mood halted when she saw the look on Buffy's face.  
  
"But, that is all just in the past! I'm here to help you out."  
  
"Really?" Despite her own reservations, Buffy felt herself smile.  
  
"Oh, yeah," Darla replied, pacing the length of the room. "I've got a little bit of money, and we can find a place to live. Just you, me, and . . ." Not knowing the name of her granddaughter, she gestured towards the infant.  
  
"Will this help?" Buffy asked, going to her bedside table and pulling out the $50,000 check from Wal-Mart.  
  
Walking to her as fast as her platform heels would allow, Darla studied the check.  
  
"Where did you get that from?" she asked, her eyes wide and alert at the concept of $50,000.  
  
Buffy set it back on her nightstand. "The Wal-Mart people. I guess they just wanted to be nice."  
  
When she looked back up at her mom, Buffy saw the expression Darla was trying to mask. But, that little light shinning in her eyes was bright and unmistakable.  
  
She slowly reached her hand out to the check. "Well, I'll just keep a hold of it and cash it in, so I can go find us a place to stay."  
  
But, before the check was in her grasp, Buffy stole it back, holding it possessively to her chest along with her daughter.  
  
"NO! I mean, I'll keep it safe, and when you find a place, we can cash it in."  
  
A slight frown graced her mouth, and her eyes squinted just enough, even though Darla was still trying to play it cool.  
  
"Fine," she peeped out, getting a hold of her emotions.  
  
Adjusting the strap of her purse, Darla nodded to her daughter, then headed towards the door.  
  
"We're getting released around ten tomorrow, so you can pick us up then," Buffy explained, watching her mother's retreating form.  
  
Catching the doorknob, Darla, a smile still on her face, coolly nodded, then left the room.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Willow Rosenburg hadn't always wanted to be a doctor. At one point in her life, she had contemplated running the nursery with Tara. But Giles, her mentor through her teenage years, had seen her potential, and pointed her in the direction of medicine.  
  
She had been hesitant about a career that would mean her close interaction with other people. As a child, she was shy, opening up only to her best friend, Xander.  
  
But, as she got older, she lost her timid behavior. When Spike and Xander became pals, Willow almost immediately became mixed into their quirky friendship. Soon, Tara moved to town and Xander (surprisingly) began dating Cordelia, and Willow became the mother hen to the group, which grew again when Willow started dating Oz, a musician she met during her freshman year at Sunnydale University.  
  
College gave her a new look on life, and she realized just what her intelligence could give her. With Giles' help, she found how exciting being a doctor could be, and what she could do for others. Her kind nature directed her towards pediatrics, a field she, given the chance, would talk animatedly about for hours on end.  
  
Now studying at the exclusive medical hospital, she alternated between school and her new residency at the hospital. The residency unfortunately meant that she spent less time with the people she loved. Her relationship with Oz, whom she now lived with in a nearby apartment, was becoming strained even though she was trying hard to fix it. But, it's the price you pay to do something you love.  
  
Walking purposely to the front admittance area, Willow greeted almost everyone she passed. She had just informed Mr. Rice, a 54-year-old plumber who had suffered a mild heart attack, that he could go home that day, and she was about to do rounds in the children's hospital, which she looked forward to everyday. But, she had a few charts to drop off, hence her reason for going to the front desk.  
  
Amy, one of the best nurses the hospital had ever hired, was busy filing when Willow walked in. The two chatted as they always did: friendly, but still not off task.  
  
When Willow glanced up from her work briefly, she gasped loudly at the sight in the back of the waiting area.  
  
"What is she still doing here?" Willow whispered to Amy.  
  
Buffy had been released around ten that morning, and all of her belongings had been packed up onto hospital doilies and wheeled into the waiting area. It was almost 12:30 in the afternoon, and she was still there, Aurora in her arms, trying not to look at anyone.  
  
Shrugging, Amy leaned in closer to talk privately.  
  
"She's been there the entire time. I asked her if she wanted to call whoever was picking her up, but she didn't know where they were staying."  
  
Willow's eyes darkened with anger when she heard this. Last night, Buffy had told her new friend about her encounter with Darla. But, as she listened, she had a gut feeling that Darla would not be coming back.  
  
"Can I use your phone?" Willow asked as Amy resumed her work.  
  
When Amy nodded, she picked up the receiver and dialed one of the numbers she knew by heart. Buffy may have just been a patient, but she was quickly becoming a good friend, and Willow would be damned if she let anything happen to her.  
  
"Hello," Willow replied when the person on the other line picked up. "It's Willow. I need your help."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"At least she didn't take the check," Buffy sighed as she cradled Aurora closer, hiding from the July heat under the hospital overhang near the entrance area.  
  
Buffy had gotten tired of the other patients staring at her, of the nurses whispering to each other. So, around one in the afternoon, she had her belongings wheeled outside and sat on a bench, making some half-hearted comment about her ride being late.  
  
She knew it was a lie. Darla was not coming to pick her up. She had seen it in her mother's eyes when she pulled the check out of her reach. It was that look of cool acceptance, and of dismissal. The last time she looked at Angel, it was in his eyes as well.  
  
Aurora was beginning to fuss. For most of the day, she had napped. But now, she wanted to eat, and Buffy was to embarrass to nurse in such a public place, even if there was no one around.  
  
Finally, the infant had enough, and began to wail. Buffy began to rock her, hoping the slow movements would quiet her.  
  
"I'm sorry, honey," Buffy moaned, holding her closer to her chest, desperately trying to brush away the tears that were sprouting in her own eyes.  
  
Hearing a car pull up the long driveway for emergency admittance, Buffy looked up.  
  
A black Jeep parked in a clearly marked NO PARKING zone a few feet away from Buffy and Aurora. The driver killed the engine, and opened the car door.  
  
It was Joyce, her curly hair pulled back by a rolled up handkerchief, wearing a white button-up shirt and khaki shorts. Pulling off her sunglasses, she studied the mother and daughter for a moment.  
  
"Buffy," she began, walking slowly towards the two, "I have a problem with your rose tree."  
  
"You do?" The girl replied, her voice small and tear-stained.  
  
Nodding, Joyce sat down next to Buffy. "You haven't been by in the past few days, and some of the leaves are starting to wilt. So, I've decided that it's going to need 24-hour care, and I certainly can't be responsible for it."  
  
There was a discreet smile on the older woman's face, and when her eyes met Buffy's, an agreement passed between them.  
  
Buffy didn't respond when she stood up with Aurora, and Joyce began to wheel the doilies to her trunk. No word was spoken when Buffy opened the backseat and found a brand new car seat, strapped in and ready for the baby. When Buffy went to the trunk to help load things in, the two didn't talk. And the car ride was in complete silence.  
  
But, as Buffy walked up the front steps of Joyce's large house, Aurora once again asleep in her arms, a little sigh rose was breathed from her mouth. She knew she was finally home.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
leann2- Sorry I couldn't post before Thanksgiving. I hope you get an A on your paper.  
  
lolly6- Well, you got your wish!  
  
masaarah- No, I really liked the Wal-Mart story! God, that's awesome! See, the only thing we have to be proud of in the ol' US is Wal-Mart and those really crappy tourist traps in the Midwest. And, yes, I do love Wesley from ATS. In BTVS, he's such a pussy I can't stand it!  
  
Imzadi- Lindsey, my darling dear, will be appearing next chapter! Hurrah! You've been so patient! And thank you for all your comments! You make me giggly.  
  
EmilyTheStrange1- Yah! You kick ass too, my dear!  
  
Comedia- You are a slut, and I love you! Tell Cathy to stop fucking singing her god damned opera, or shit like that.  
  
fashiongrrl- Of course Buffy wouldn't be in trouble for "shoplifting". This is my story, and the only people who get hurt are the ones who deserve it (btw, who wants Angel to get raped in prison? Just a question).  
  
Carmine007- Fine, fine, fine. Everyone! This is the person who helped me name Aurora! My muse, my darling, my best friend/worst enemy, Anyanka Faith! There, are you happy? And, you know what would help? If you fucking signed to give these reviews, you lazy bitch. I love you, and I'll see you on Thursday. 


	12. End of the Line

Disclaimer: I will not claim to own anything of this story. Joss Whedon created the characters, Billie Letts wrote "Where the Heart Is", which this is based on.  
  
Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language.  
  
Author's Notes: Sorry for the long wait. I got home about a week and a half ago, just after I finished my first finals. Just in case you are curious, I passed everything and will be attending school for at least another term. Not only have I been recovering, but because my mom would not let me bring my faithful computer up for the holiday, I had to steal my brother's, re- format it, and then install Word. Anyway, updates! This is a small one, but I promise to put another one up for Christmas. Even though the Christian population will not be reading it because they are celebrating the birth of Christ. I, on the other hand, will be celebrating the many presents Santa brought me. Holidays are fun! By the way, I put a link to my diary on my main page, so if you have time to waste and you can't get sex . . . ah, don't waste your time. It's not worth it.  
  
PS: Happy Hanukkah, Emma! ____________________________________________________________________________  
  
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*  
  
Chapter Twelve- End of the Line  
  
Angel never got used to the feel of handcuffs.  
  
After all those years, after all of those arrests, he had never been able to feel comfortable with his hands chained together, the cold steel pressing into his wrists.  
  
Nervously, he glanced around the courtroom, and it finally struck him what deep shit he was in.  
  
He caught the eye of one J. Whistler, his court-appointed defense attorney. Whistler managed a small grin when he met his client's gaze, although it was forced and false. A man with crooked teeth, bad hair, and a worse taste in clothing, he was more interested in getting home than defending the obviously guilty man.  
  
"If the prosecution is finished, I will read the verdict," announced the judge, an older, graying man nearing retirement from high atop his desk.  
  
The District Attorney glanced up from his notes, which were discreetly covering a copy of the newspaper, and pushed his glasses higher up onto his nose.  
  
"Not at this time, Your Honor," he sighed, turning his attention back to the cartoons.  
  
Edging forward on his creaky wooden chair, Angel began to chew lightly on his fingernails. Just as his fate was to be decided, a voice, one he hoped would remain silent throughout the proceedings spoke up.  
  
"Just a moment, Your Honor."  
  
Grimacing, Angel looked over to his right, and studied the smug face that belonged to Assistant DA Lindsey McDonald. A few moments earlier, Angel had been witness to this man's obsession with putting people away for a horrendous amount of time. He had put a petty drug dealer in for fourteen years, and did it with complete joy shining through his eyes, almost like he was anally raping the man right in front of the judge.  
  
("Your honor," THRUST, "You can't," THRUST, "Deny," THRUST, "The facts." THRUST THRUST.)  
  
Now, he was prepared to give Angel sloppy seconds.  
  
"Before you sentence this man to his jail term, you might just want to know who 'Angel' really is." He stood up, opening up a rather large file and flipping through it.  
  
"Mr. McDonald," began the judge, folding his hands together, "I don't think the courtroom would be interested in another example of just how great a lawyer YOU think you are."  
  
"Your honor . . ." A light red tint appeared in the corners of his face, but he pushed on. "This man has, remarkably, gotten off fairly well during this trial. The parents of the little girl don't wish to press charges, and the owner of the truck just wants his vehicle back. You will probably decide his sentence based on the drug possession charges, which, given your past history, will only get him in for a maximum of eighteen months."  
  
Glaring daggers, the judge began to growl. "Just what is the point?"  
  
A tiny smile flicked up on his mouth, and he spared a quick glance at Angel.  
  
"I don't think the constituents of this great county want someone like Mr. Metatron released so quickly."  
  
He stepped around the prosecution table, and took a place right in the middle of the floor.  
  
"Liam 'Angel' Metatron has served a combined six years in prison for various crimes. Most of them are small incidents: drunkenly misconduct, disorderly behavior, shoplifting . . . The most recent one took place less than a month ago in Arizona. But, that's just the beginning. He served one year in a Nevada correctional institute for three counts of aggressive assault. In '99, he was held on suspicion of the robbery of an Idaho Mini Mart, but the evidence was inconclusive. Finally, he has jumped bail TWICE, once for selling pot in Seattle, and for stabbing a man during a bar fight in Portland."  
  
Clearing his throat, grin firmly in place, McDonald set Angel's criminal file on the table, right in front of the DA who was currently involved in another episode of "Get Fuzzy".  
  
"You have to ask yourself, Your Honor, if you want someone like this roaming the streets, and how comfortable you think this would make your supporters feel?"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
As inmate 3674514, Angel became accustom to the new world that was the Corcoran State Prison. He never spoke to any other inmate unless they addressed him, he tried to never be alone with one of the burlier inmates in the shower, and he never ate the green shit disguised as Sunday lunch.  
  
There were a few incidents in the beginning. To put it easily, he was not able to shit correctly for a month.  
  
This was to be his life for the next five years, two if they got him paroled in time. But, he somehow found a way to live through this torturous hell.  
  
He found music.  
  
Using a guitar some inmate across the hall traded him, he taught himself the basics. Soon, he was writing songs, composing epic pieces that would have the other inmates plotting his demise when he strummed a B-flat chord at three in the morning.  
  
He wrote songs, full of pain and misery, about loss and betrayal. But, he didn't realize whom he wrote these songs for, because it all seemed to pour out of a disguised wound. It wasn't until he was older, and just a bit wiser, that he realized he wrote these songs for Buffy and his child.  
  
* * * MySweetAudrina- Ten snaps! Awesome! Thank you very much, and I hope you like the rest.  
  
Imzadi- Well, are you happy now darling? Just kidding. I hope you think his little cameo was appropriate, if short. But I keep my promise. As for Darla, lemme just ask if you would rather have Joyce as that character? Joyce is a sweetie, and I wouldn't want to portray her as a cold bitch. She's too good for that.  
  
Tobert- Daily raping for Angel would be a good thing, but I actually plan on redeeming this guy, so that would be a bit cruel. In the actual story, the character I made Darla into takes the money, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it.  
  
chrestomanci- You are also a bitch. You haven't emailed me in quite some time, and I am having some withdrawls. Also, as for your post on my journal, Orlando Bloom is so incredibly hot, and the elves are cool mother fuckers! I miss you and everyone else in the dorm, and I can't wait until January for our reunion. Have a great X-mas, if I don't post before. Tell your family I said hi!  
  
FirstAidKid- You are too kind to me. I update as soon as I can, hon, so be patient.  
  
Atterb- Next chapter is all Spuffy interaction, so hurrah for that!  
  
fashiongrrl- I know it was weird for me to not make Joyce Buffy's mom, but in this way she can be the supportive person Buffy's never had. Thanks for all the compliments.  
  
Comedia- Here's my response to you, slut: I hope you and Diamond Dave's first kid comes out at least with a partially functioning brain. Miss you much, and hopefully you haven't committed any acts of patricide. See you at the airport! Yes, at the airport.  
  
Carmine007- Before I start, please just log in. This name is really crappy, you frigid cow. Also, please do not use responses as a chance for you to tell me about your life, darling. That is what the good lord Sauron invented email for. I love you so much, even though I plan on smothering you in a pillow tonight. Willow/Tara rocks!  
  
AJ Hofacre- ". . . some parts ARE better than the movie" ?!? Is that criticism, my dear? No, I'm just kidding. Thank you.  
  
hells_angel- You are too sweet. I swear to Goddess, all of these responses are, in a way, electronic ego masturbation. But keep it going, because I can't get enough. Again, you are too sweet.  
  
A- Duh. Read the author's notes at the beginning for the disclaimers.  
  
Spuffy- I try to post as soon as I can, so I'm sorry to make you wait.  
  
cindy- New reader? Bonjour! Well, because I am stupid, I have no idea what the rec website is. But, I'm really glad that you like this story. 


	13. A Good Man

Disclaimer: I will not claim to own anything of this story. Joss Whedon created the characters, Billie Letts wrote "Where the Heart Is", which this is based on.  
  
Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language.  
  
Author's Notes: Promised I would post for Christmas, didn't I? Well, because the last chapter was so short, this one is uber-long. Hope you all enjoy, and have a happy holidays. If you don't celebrate Christmas, I hope you have a good time not finding anything Christmas-related on TV. I would like to spend the day watching my favorite Christmas move, "Die Hard", but I have to do the family thing. Everyone be safe, and make sure you don't eat any beef with the Mad Cow thing. That would suck. Also, I have to leave right after I post this chapter, so I will thank all of you kind people who responded to the last chapter next post. You guys are all awesome, and I'll catch you soon!  
  
PS: The book, "Twenty-One Balloons" is so fucking awesome. Even if you are old and only like to read things pornographic in nature, this is a great children's book. Yah! ____________________________________________________________________________  
  
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Chapter Thirteen- A Good Man  
  
"Did you organize the filings?"  
  
"Yeah, Rupes, everything is organized, and it still is, each time you ask me," sighed Spike, switching the phone receiver to his other ear, rolling his eyes while his uncle huffed and puffed on the other end.  
  
"Are the floors vacuumed?"  
  
"What do you think?" He leaned forward onto the front counter, cradling the receiver with his shoulder, while his other hand began to trace patterns in the dust that had settled on the counter.  
  
He could almost hear Giles remove his glasses and begin polish them with the hem of his jacket.  
  
"I really wish you wouldn't take that tone with me, William. I've done nothing to make you angry."  
  
"And yet," sighed the younger man, "You kinda forget that I've been doing the Sunday chores for fifteen years, so I probably have a good idea of what I need to do."  
  
"So sorry." Giles' voice took on a harsher tone. "I've forgotten how responsible you are, and that I should treat you like an adult, even when you act like a toddler-"  
  
His rant stopped suddenly, and over the phone, Spike could hear Giles muttering something while Anya tried to calm him down.  
  
"William." It was Anya. "I'm just going to end that conversation before you two decide not to speak to each other, meaning I will have to play mediator."  
  
"Sorry, Awn." And he was.  
  
"Cool." Again, there was a pause. "Well, I just pulled onto the Convention Center exit. Do you want to yell at Rupert once more before I hang up?"  
  
Spike was glad the two couldn't see his grin. "Nope. Tell the old man I hope he learns a lot about small business success."  
  
"Believe me, he will. Love you, Spikey."  
  
"Love you too, Awn."  
  
Hanging up the phone, Spike took a few cleansing breaths.  
  
It was almost eleven, meaning Spike had the entire Sunday afternoon to himself. Because the library was always closed on Sunday, and because this particular day Anya decided to drag Giles to a "Shaping the Future: Managing a Successful Small Business" convention, he was free to do what he pleased.  
  
Casually stuffing his hands in his pockets, he slowly went to the reading room. While he had been cleaning earlier that day, he had found a copy of one of his favorite childhood books, "Twenty-One Balloons". He found himself trying to remember how long it was since he read through it, and finally decided it was long enough. The copy sat on the ottoman for the chair nearest the window, and he planned to spend all day in that chair, reading it.  
  
Soon, he found himself at his favorite part, the history of the Krakatoa islanders, and was about to turn the page, when a knock at the front door interrupted him.  
  
"We're closed today! Come back tomorrow!" He called out, turning his attention back to the pages.  
  
There was another knock, this one stronger.  
  
"I said we're closed! Go away!"  
  
When the person knocked again, Spike slammed the book shut, and stomped angrily to the front door.  
  
"Can't you hear, mate-" he began as he unlocked the set of doors, but shutting up when he saw Buffy standing in front of the doors, cradling her daughter in her arms.  
  
"Sorry," she apologized as she brushed passed him quickly, trying to juggle holding Aurora and her car seat, and carrying a baby bag.  
  
Following her, Spike was mentally kicking himself as he watched her unload at the closest table in the main library.  
  
"Whew!" She sighed, flopping down in a chair when Aurora was securely snuggled into her car seat. "I thought I'd be happy to get rid of the baby weight. Turns out, once you actually have a child, you only end up adding fifty pounds of shit you drag along with her."  
  
She once again then sighed, and turned to stare at Spike, who was awkwardly standing in the main hallway, watching her. There was complete silence as the two looked at each other, trying to find something to say.  
  
"How are you doing?" he finally managed to ask, coming into the room and sitting next to her.  
  
Shrugging, she began to play with the strap of Aurora's baby bag.  
  
"Better. Could be doing a lot worse, if it wasn't for . . ."  
  
Their eyes connected when she trailed off.  
  
Buffy struggled to find the words. "I kinda came here to say thanks."  
  
"Don't need to," he insisted.  
  
"No." She grabbed his right hand, cupping it in her two. "She and I could have died if you hadn't come."  
  
He shrugged and pulled his hand away, as if to dismiss it, but Buffy could see the blush tinting his cheeks.  
  
"So you knew, about me . . ." Buffy trailed off.  
  
"Yeah." He began to study the wood grain of the table.  
  
"How long?"  
  
Sighing, he stared up at the ceiling. "Since the day we had lunch at the Magic Box. Followed you home that night to make sure you got in alright."  
  
"You didn't let me know you knew."  
  
"You never mentioned it, so I knew that it had to be a secret. You talked about that Angel-prick once, but you didn't give any sign of where you thought he was. Put two and two together."  
  
Buffy slumped down into the chair. "So, I was always worried about being found out, but you already knew? And, you were playing the part of my friendly stalker?"  
  
"Stalker? Fuck, you just said two minutes ago if it wasn't for me-"  
  
Both shut up at the same time, knowing this wasn't the time to argue.  
  
Suddenly, Buffy sat up, and took Aurora out of her car seat. "Hold her," she demanded.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Hold her!"  
  
He was about to protest again, but Buffy had already put the baby into his arms.  
  
Buffy took a step back, and hid a smile as she watched his expression change from shock to acceptance to contentment. He removed a hand from underneath the child, and began to stroke the soft hair on top of her head, and the baby fuzz on her cheek. This was the second time the young woman had seen him so open and tender, and it was just as amazing. It almost took her breath away.  
  
"How'd you know what to do?" she asked when she had found her voice again.  
  
"Was in a life survival book I read a few years ago."  
  
Buffy tried to suppress a laugh, but it broke loose, and soon Spike joined her with his own amused chuckle while studying Aurora's tiny hand.  
  
"Heard you and the little bit are living with Joyce," he commented after she had stopped laughing.  
  
"Just for a while, until I can work things out," she admitted.  
  
"She doesn't mind you two living with her. Actually, she's probably going to force you to stay." Sighing, he leaned back, holding the child closer to his chest. "Sorry I didn't come visit you in the hospital. I had to go to Los Angeles for a few days."  
  
"Giles told me. Everything ok?" she asked.  
  
"Yeah, just family business. I . . ."  
  
Spike noticed that Buffy had taken her attention from him to over his shoulder, where she was watching something move down the grand staircase. He turned to see what she was looking at.  
  
Buffy's eyes widened as she watched a young woman slowly step down the stairs. She had seen her the first day she came to the library, only her back had been to her.  
  
The woman wore a long, Victorian-styled nightgown of pure white, the short sleeves puffed slightly. In contrast to her gown was her silky raven hair, flowing down past her shoulders. Her skin was pale, almost translucent, and it made her blue eyes even more intense.  
  
Slowly, she gazed across the room, her eyes coming to rest on Buffy and Aurora.  
  
"Spike," she asked weakly, as if forming the words zapped all of her energy, "Who are these people?"  
  
Buffy heard a low sigh come from the blond as he handed Aurora back to her mother, stood up and moved to the stairs, holding out his hand to help the woman down the rest of the way.  
  
"No worry ducks, they're good people," he whispered into her ear. A small smile peaked from her lips as she let her eyes shut, and nuzzled her head in Spike's shoulder.  
  
"Dru," he said to the woman, "This is my good friend, Buffy Summers, and her daughter Aurora."  
  
Turning back to Buffy, his attitude became instantly formal.  
  
"Buffy, this is Drusilla Giles, my little sister."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Kitchens were not something Buffy was comfortable around.  
  
For most of her childhood, she had been cared for by people who never had a second to teach her cooking skills, secret recipes, or even how to turn on the oven.  
  
The Giles' kitchen made her that uneasy, even if she thought it was cutely remodeled by Anya in her mock retro way, with a check-tiled floor, stainless steel appliances, and the matching metal table and chair set cushioned in red leather.  
  
Maybe it wasn't the kitchen that put her on edge. It quite probably could have been the situation.  
  
Spike was at the stove; his back turned to her, heating up the bright red teakettle. He hadn't said much since he suggested that they move into the kitchen, and had gone about, very Giles-esque, preparing tea.  
  
Drusilla's uneasiness matched her own. The two young women would occasionally lock eyes, until one would turn away to study something less interesting. She was also spending a good amount of time staring at Aurora, who was contently snuggled into her car seat next to her mother's feet.  
  
Noticing this, Buffy decided to break the ice.  
  
"Do you," she began, pausing when Drusilla's eyes met hers, "I mean, would you like to hold her?"  
  
Hesitantly, Drusilla shook her head, matching her brother's earlier hesitation at the question. "I'm afraid I'll smash her into little pieces."  
  
Lightly chuckling, Buffy bent down to unbuckle the infant.  
  
"She's a sturdy little thing. I'm more afraid of her barfing on her dress."  
  
It was Drusilla's turn to chuckle, but it was more to relieve the nerves as she awkwardly held out her arms. She gingerly held the weight of the girl when Buffy gave Aurora to her.  
  
But Buffy saw an immediate change come over her as she gradually became more comfortable, pulling the baby closer to her.  
  
"How could anything be so tiny and beautiful?" asked Drusilla, her voice light and airy as she cradled Aurora. She looked back up at Buffy, who could see the stars dancing in her eyes.  
  
"I guess we have a lot to talk about," Buffy mused, giving her patented half-smile.  
  
Nodding, Drusilla tapped Aurora lightly on her button nose. "That we do."  
  
"Hey," interrupted Spike as he approached the table, balancing a fancy tea tray loaded with munchie things and all the accessories needed for a good tea in one hand, the tea kettle clutched in the other. "I'm the one who has to do the explaining." He sat down, plopping the kettle onto a conveniently placed potholder, and his own personal mug filled with coffee. "Alright, Princess?" he asked Drusilla.  
  
"It is perfectly fine," Drusilla answered.  
  
Sighing, he began to serve the tea.  
  
"I was about 11, and Dru 6, when our parents were killed in a car accident," he began.  
  
"I'm so sorry," Buffy whispered, watching Aurora cuddle with Drusilla, trying to contemplate such a thing happening to a child.  
  
"Not your fault, luv," the brunette insisted. "I barely even remember them."  
  
"So," Spike continued, "We came to live with Uncle Rupes by way of our parent's will. Caused a big uproar on our mother's side of the family."  
  
"Why?"  
  
He shrugged. "Rupes is Father's only sibling, and he was a bachelor living across the ocean. Mum's family wanted us to stay with them, and there was this huge argument . . ." He paused. "But, 'M getting ahead of myself.  
  
"The first year was awful. I was the worst fucking child in the world, probably made Rupert consider homicide a hundred times. But, he was so focused on keeping me in line, that he didn't see the trouble going on with Dru."  
  
"What was happening?" Buffy asked.  
  
"I only remember bits and pieces of it," Drusilla answered. "There were people, little people only I could see. I called them my pixies, and I would talk to them, and play games and have tea parties with them."  
  
"Sounds like normal kid stuff," Buffy observed.  
  
Drusilla shook her head. "It's not normal when imaginary people tell you to do bad things."  
  
"We all thought everything was fine and dandy with her, until she set fire to the girl's bathroom at the grade school," Spike sighed.  
  
"They took me to go see doctors, lots of hands and needles to fish inside my mind and find the pixies," Drusilla explained. "Two years later, they said I was cured."  
  
"Doctors called it post-traumatic shock, caused by Father and Mum's death, and us having to move so quickly. She went back to school, and we eventually forgot about it."  
  
Casting her eyes down to stare blankly at the floor, tears began to well in Drusilla's eyes. "I didn't tell anyone that they came back. No one knew until . . ."  
  
"Ducks," Spike interrupted, "How about I finish, and you go back upstairs to take a nap."  
  
Nodding, Dru handed Aurora back to her mother, thanked Buffy, and walked quickly out of the kitchen.  
  
Spike sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Sorry about that," he apologized, "But she doesn't like to talk about that day."  
  
"You don't have to tell me," Buffy responded, but he shook his head.  
  
"Nope, I've already started, so I havta finish."  
  
After taking a long sip of coffee, Spike cleared his throat. "She had an accident the summer I graduated from high school. I was supposed to go back home for school, a big deal for the family. One afternoon, I went to the beach with my friends, and Rupes went to help Anya at the store, so Dru was going to spend the day alone. I come home, make dinner, call her down to eat, and she doesn't answer, so I go upstairs to find her."  
  
The same tears that had taken root in Drusilla's eyes were beginning to sprout in her brother's.  
  
"She had cut her wrists open, and was half-dead on the floor when I found her."  
  
Buffy stared at him in shock.  
  
"For the past seven years, we've all been trying to figure out what she has. Some doctors call it schizophrenia; others say its dementia. They'd pump her full of the drug of the month, and most of them put her in a sort of vegetative state. The variety she's taking now make her tired, but she's fine in all other aspects. I've been traveling up and down this stupid state, trying to find a doc who can make her feel better."  
  
"So, is that why you couldn't come visit me in the hospital?" asked the blonde.  
  
"Yeah," he admitted, "That's also why I snapped at you the first day. The one we had visited told me that Dru should be put in an institution."  
  
"And you said no, didn't you."  
  
"I won't let anyone else hurt her."  
  
There was silence for a moment.  
  
"Is that why you didn't go to college?"  
  
Breaking the somber mood, Spike laughed. "You got me all pegged out, pet. I can't trust old Rupert to take care of her. He's too busy shagging Anya 'round the clock. Also . . ." he stopped laughing, and began to absently fiddle with his coffee mug. "I don't know. I guess that I'm all she has. Sure, we have other family and friends to help out, but I'm her brother. It's in my job description to protect her. And if that means waiting a long time to finish school, then I can wait."  
  
There was a hitch to his voice as he stopped, and in one quick move he drained the contents of his coffee mug.  
  
"Spike?" Buffy inquired when he set his mug down, gripping the curved handle.  
  
"Yeah, luv?"  
  
She reached her arm out, and placed her hand on top of his. There wasn't any sarcasm in her tone when she spoke again, because she meant what she said.  
  
"You're a good man." 


	14. People Called Family

Disclaimer: I will not claim to own anything of this story. Joss Whedon created the characters, Billie Letts wrote "Where the Heart Is", which this is based on.  
  
Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language.  
  
Author's Notes: Hey kiddies! I won in the Mommy category for the Barefoot Awards, so thank you so very much! Sorry for the long wait. I'm just getting back into the swing of school, and just now found some spare time to write. Happy MLK Jr. Day! Be nice to people. Hope you all like this (longer) update, which is a series of vignettes. Kisses to all.  
  
PS: Again, I don't hold anything against people from Alabama. I love Alabama people. Quite frequently, actually. ____________________________________________________________________________  
  
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Chapter Fourteen- People Called Family  
  
"Joyce! JOYCE!" Buffy screamed from her room, frantically throwing items of clothing out of her hamper.  
  
"What is it, Buffy?" Joyce's voice echoed from the kitchen into Buffy's room on the second floor.  
  
Buffy picked up a pair of panties, eyed them for a second, and then tossed them over her head.  
  
"Do you know where my gray pants are?"  
  
"The charcoal ones?"  
  
"No," Buffy yelled back, "The light gray ones, with the flippy leg thingies!"  
  
"The ones that Aurora spit up on last night? The ones you put in the wash but haven't taken care of yet?"  
  
Groaning, Buffy answered yes, threw off the blue shirt she had been wearing, and went back to her closet. Now that her favorite pair of pants were un-wearable, she had to totally rethink her clothing choice for the day.  
  
"Why don't you wear that cute green dress you have?" Joyce suggested.  
  
"I so do not think so!" Buffy answered. "That makes me look like a hippo, and it's taken me three months to get the baby weight off, so I'm taking full advantage of my waist while I still have one!"  
  
Three months had passed since Buffy and Aurora moved into Joyce's home on Revello, and with each passing day, the two women became more at ease with each other. Joyce realized that it was a futile mission to make Buffy put her dishes in the sink and to remind her to do the laundry, and Buffy learned not to ask questions when Clem stayed over for the night. During the first month, Buffy was walking on eggshells, always aware that one wrong move could put her and Aurora on the street. When she realized this, Joyce immediately put it out of her system, although she sometimes wished she hadn't, seeing how the young woman had a habit of taking hour-long showers.  
  
A clean pair of khaki pants were at the bottom of her dresser, so Buffy threw that and a white cotton halter top on, added a little eyeshadow, mascara, and lip gloss, and ran downstairs.  
  
There were errands to run before she went to work, that Wal-Mart job Mr. Price had offered her and that she had started two weeks ago. She had fixed it so she worked only four days a week, three to five hours during the early shift. That way, someone could watch Aurora during those few hours Buffy was at work without any inconvenience. Today, Joyce was opening the gallery late so she could take care of Aurora.  
  
Simultaneously feeding Aurora her morning bottle of "Mama's milk" (as Buffy called it) and reading the newspaper, Joyce grinned when she saw Buffy run into the room. Clem, who had been preparing eggs at the stove, gave her a friendly nod before turning back to the stove.  
  
Buffy drank a glass of orange juice as she threw two English muffins into the toaster.  
  
"I don't know why you're running around," commented Joyce as she took the bottle out of Aurora's mouth. "You have an hour before work starts."  
  
The muffins popped up, and Buffy ignored how hot they were as she sat at the table and slathered them in butter and jelly.  
  
"I know, but I'm going to take the Honda to the mechanics to get the brakes fixed." Joyce had given Buffy her old yellow Honda that had been sitting in the garage for ten years, even though Buffy wasn't the best driver in the world.  
  
Carefully, Joyce brought Aurora up and placed the baby on her shoulder, patting her back to make her burp.  
  
"You don't have to do that," she teasingly protested, knowing Buffy thought otherwise.  
  
Laughing, Buffy kissed her on the forehead.  
  
"I'm doing it, and I'm paying!"  
  
There had been only one fight between the two during their time together, and that had been over finances. Joyce had no problem paying for everything, but when Buffy saw how much it was costing her to buy diapers and the other baby stuff, she called Wal-Mart the next morning and asked when she could start.  
  
Clem joined them at the table, bringing along a plate filled with eggs.  
  
"At least have something else to eat before you go," Clem begged as he held out the plate to her. He was still very concerned when it came to Buffy's well being, especially seeing how little she ate.  
  
As quickly as she could, Buffy shoveled down the eggs, and when she finished, she leaped up, kissed everyone at the table, gave Aurora a quick cuddle, and ran out the door.  
  
It took a few attempts to make the engine turn over, but Buffy was finally able to get it moving once it did. Slowly, with every paycheck, she was going to fix the yellow Honda up.  
  
Initiative Motors, the only place Xander recommended she get her car fixed up, was on the corner of Fifth and Pine, about three blocks from the Wal- Mart. The only problem was filling out the paper work and arguing with the mechanics.  
  
Not even bothering to turn off the engine, Buffy jumped out of her car once she pulled into Initiative's parking lot. She tried to go into the front office, but the door was locked. So, Buffy resorted to going back to the car and leaning on the horn.  
  
"WHAT?" screamed a voice from the inside of the shop, clearly pissed off.  
  
There was now only twenty minutes before Buffy was officially late for work.  
  
"I need my car fixed!"  
  
"You're too fucking early!" the voice growled back, and Buffy could hear this person begin to make his way out front.  
  
"Damnit! I have an appointment, and I need to get to work!"  
  
"Like I care, I-"  
  
The guy shut up when he finally emerged from the office, obviously dumbstruck when he eyed the customer. Buffy smiled when she got a good look at him. Tall, sandy brown hair, the perfect example of why people bother going to Iowa.  
  
He smiled back at her, a shy one that made Buffy's heart melt. She got a glimpse of his nametag when he began to approach her. Riley.  
  
"Hey," Riley said, his eyes drinking in the picture of this small, beautiful blonde girl.  
  
"Hey," Buffy answered, a light blush tinting her cheeks.  
  
At this, Riley grinned, and stepped just a bit closer towards her.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Joyce set the final breakfast dish in the sink, and watched for a moment while Clem loaded the dishwasher. Impulsively, she grabbed a towel and snapped it across his ass.  
  
"That's gonna cost you," he growled lightly.  
  
She grinned. "I'd like to see you-"  
  
The doorbell rang.  
  
"I'll get it," she offered.  
  
Checking on Aurora as she slept in her baby swing, Joyce ran to the door.  
  
Opening the heavy wooden door inwards, she studied the two people standing outside, the screen door separating Joyce from them.  
  
"How can I help you?" Joyce asked the man and woman, noticing the plain, conservative clothing they wore, and the white Bibles they held in their hands.  
  
The man spoke first.  
  
"We have come to bring the word of the Lord to the Wal-Mart baby and her mother." His voice was low, colored with a deep-South accent.  
  
Rolling her eyes, Joyce grasped the doorknob, prepared to slam it in the faces of these people. She had thought all the crazy people interested in helping Buffy and Aurora would have found something else to do already.  
  
"Well, you've wasted your time," Joyce replied snottily.  
  
"We've come all the way from Washougal, Alabama to teach the mother the error of her ways, and to ask God forgiveness for her sins," the woman continued for her husband (?). She adjusted the headband that kept her short, mousy-brown hair out of her face.  
  
"Your God sounds pretty much like an asshole." Joyce had no patience with people who bad-mouthed her friends, especially someone who lived under her roof. "My God, on the other hand, is an understanding one, and is only looking out for their well-being. And, if you don't get off my property this instant, I'll make a phone call to my good friend, Officer Harris, who won't even hesitate to put your stupid, white-trashed, Bible-thumping asses right in jail for trespassing."  
  
She began to shut the door, leaving only a crack open.  
  
"Have a nice day," she sarcastically said through the crack, letting the door slam the rest of the way.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"I have to ask you something," Buffy muttered offhandedly.  
  
"No, I won't grow any pot for you," Tara quipped, looking at the underside of the dogwood blossoms and not seeing the serious look on Buffy's face.  
  
She finally did, and her attitude changed once she did.  
  
The two were in Tara's greenhouse. Tara had babysat Aurora that morning, and now the two were going through and watering the specimens Tara raised.  
  
"What's wrong?" asked Tara.  
  
"Why did you ask about the pot?" Buffy first began.  
  
"Xander asks me all the time. What's wrong?"  
  
Setting down the spray bottle, Buffy walked over to her. She gave Aurora, who was bouncing happily away in her car seat, a quick motherly glance before she leaned in.  
  
"You know that guy I went out with?"  
  
Tara nodded. She had known Riley from school. He had been two years above her in high school, one of those jock guys. After graduation, he ended up losing his college scholarship and now worked at the repair shop his aunt Maggie owned.  
  
"You know what I told you happened on the date?"  
  
"You both went to a restaurant for dinner, right?"  
  
"Well, yeah." Buffy paused, and began twisting a piece of hair around her fingers. "But that wasn't all that happened."  
  
As she took it in, Tara's eyes went wide.  
  
"You didn't."  
  
Buffy put her head down, feeling very much like a child.  
  
"I think I could be pregnant."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"You're not fucking pregnant!" Cordelia moaned, throwing a hand over her face for emphasis.  
  
"How do you know?" replied Willow, giving the brunette the evil eye.  
  
"I don't think Riley's sperm is smart enough to find it's way into Buffy's vaginal areas," quipped Cordelia.  
  
Once Buffy had made her admission, Tara called Cordelia and Willow, and set up an emergency meeting for the girls and their kids at the Magic Box to talk it out. They sat in the back, closer to the building, gathered around the iron table, sipping on lattes.  
  
"Joking isn't going to help now, Cordelia," Tara remarked, her voice darkly serious.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
When Tara didn't respond, Cordelia rolled her eyes, then adjusted her hold on little Meredith, the baby girl who was a week and a day younger than Aurora, who also slept in her own mother's arms.  
  
"I don't know what to do," Buffy sighed, taking a sip of her latte.  
  
"Did you use any protection?" asked Willow.  
  
"Define protection."  
  
Willow rolled her eyes. "Condom, diaphragm, bleach up the uterus right afterwards."  
  
"In that case, no."  
  
All four women were quite as they each contemplated what to say next. But, before anything else could be said, Anya walked over to check on them.  
  
She opened her mouth, then shut it when she saw the deep concentration everyone was in.  
  
"Is the coffee that bad?" asked the blonde after a moment.  
  
Willow snapped out of it first.  
  
"No, it's not that. We're just trying to figure out a problem."  
  
"What exactly is that?" Anya inquired, pulling a chair to the table and completely ignoring the other customers she was supposed to be waiting on.  
  
Cordelia was the first to speak. "Buffy fucked that Riley-guy who works at the auto shop Xander goes to, and now she thinks she's pregnant."  
  
"And what does Miss Doctor say?"  
  
Shrugging while she took a sip, Willow set down her cup. "Buffy didn't use protection, and it's possible to get pregnant right after giving birth, but it's too soon to tell."  
  
"Ok, this happened to one of my customers a few years ago," Anya explained, "And we found this spell that may reverse the process."  
  
Suddenly interested, Tara sat up.  
  
"What do you have to do?"  
  
Anya explained the details carefully. "Before the sun rises the morning after the first full moon of the month, the woman must jump backwards nine times, then drink a tea containing rosemary and chamomile."  
  
"Did that work for the woman?" Buffy was on the edge of her seat, very hopeful.  
  
"Well, not exactly. Not only did she get pregnant, but she ended up giving birth to twins."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"How does this compare to last year's release?" The young man held up a copy of a video game proudly featuring computerized girls in skimpy bikinis.  
  
The smile on Buffy's face was completely fake as she stood behind the electronics counter in Wal-Mart. "I really wouldn't have any knowledge of . . ." she glanced at the title of the game, " 'Pimpmaster 4', but I could find someone who does."  
  
"Is it true that it was banned from release in Italy last year?" asked the young man's friend.  
  
"Well, I wouldn't know." Buffy glanced down at her watch. Five minutes until her shift was over.  
  
The boy turned the box around, reading the game description on the back. "I heard that you get 100 bonus points if you shoot the hooker after you fuck her. When exactly are you supposed to activate the gun?"  
  
This shocked her. "How old are you kids?"  
  
"Fourteen," they answered in unison.  
  
"Well, I don't think your parents are going to want you . . ."  
  
"Lemme take over, pet," a voice from behind her purred.  
  
First surprised then relieved, Buffy grinned as Spike walked over to the kids. He'd be a lot better at reprimanding them for their game choice.  
  
"There's a better graphic definition then 'Pimpmaster 3', along with five different alternative levels. It was banned in France, not Italy, but the Italian government is trying to hold off the release. And, you press Alt-5- Delete when the hooker puts her pants on to get that bonus."  
  
The boys' eyes lit up when the blond finished his explanation, then hurriedly pulled the $63.99 out of their pockets, and ran out of the store once Buffy put the game in a plastic bag.  
  
"How the fuck did you know that?" Buffy asked, staring amazed at him.  
  
He proudly grinned. "I do know stuff besides what's in books. Me and Xander play video games whenever he has a day off, and we've bought every single Pimpmaster the day they were released."  
  
She rolled her eyes. "You're a pig."  
  
Again, he laughed.  
  
"So, here's my question of the day," Spike began, taking a seat on top of the counter when Buffy went around to turn the display radio volume's down. "Why are you, the most world's most ignorant person when it comes to items that require electricity, working in the electronics department for the day?"  
  
Shooting him a look that would turn anyone to stone, Buffy began changing the all the display TV's to channel 4, while pushing mute on the sound. She hated when the customers would mess with the display items without any intention of making a purchase.  
  
"Kendra got sick earlier today, after I promised I'd take Harmony's 5 to closing shift, so I got put here, in my own personal version of hell. Thank Goddess my shift's over."  
  
Sighing, she walked over to the counter, and jumped up to sit next to him.  
  
"Thanks for picking me up today," she said, collapsing her head on his shoulder.  
  
Chuckling, he flicked her on the nose. "No problem, luv. When did they say your car would be all spruced up?"  
  
"Tomorrow. That is, unless they find something else to fix and charge me for. I'll be glad when I don't have to go there anymore."  
  
"Why's that?"  
  
Buffy shrugged her shoulders, and sat up. "Just don't wanna fall into old habits," she responded cryptically. Spike raised a questioning eyebrow to this.  
  
"Thought you and Mr. Whitebread-Repairman were a hot item," he observed, trying to hide the (was it?) depressed tone in his voice.  
  
She shook her head. "Riley and I decided to take a break."  
  
Actually, Buffy was hoping not to run into Riley ever again. The two hadn't spoken since their date, although Riley had called her twice.  
  
Everything did turn out for the best. During her lunch break, Buffy ran to the bathroom, and found that ultimate proof of her non-pregnancy. That stupid little stain on her panties, the one that was going to give her Hell to wash out, saved her.  
  
It was one week until Buffy turned eighteen, and she already felt grown up. She wasn't stupid enough to fall into the same trap she had before. Guys only seemed to cause her trouble, and she'd be damned if she was going to let it happen again.  
  
Buffy looked at her watch, and saw it was five minutes past the end of her shift. Spike followed her as she checked out and left her apron in her employee locker, and the two exited the store and headed to Spike's car.  
  
"So," Spike began, stepping into the driver's side as Buffy buckled her seatbelt, "No more Riley?"  
  
"Actually, no more guys. All they ever seem to do is take my money and get me pregnant."  
  
Absently, Spike started the car, and headed towards Sunnydale.  
  
"I think I speak for the entire male species here, pet, when I say that not all guys are like that."  
  
Buffy saw the hurt look on his face, and wondered why he would take it personal.  
  
She amended it. "They're the only type of guys who would ever be interested in me."  
  
That hurt look stayed where it was, and it might have been her imagination, but it got even more intense.  
  
Unsure of what to say, Buffy turned her attention outside, staring at the dark streets they drove by, until she realized that they were heading in the direction of Xander and Cordelia's house, not hers.  
  
"Where are we going?" she asked.  
  
Shaking the pained look, Spike turned to her, a smirk replacing his moody attitude. "Whelp asked me to stop by. Needs me to help him with something. It'll only be for a moment."  
  
They finally pulled into the Harris' driveway, a small strip of concrete in front of an old, but well-kept, two-storied house.  
  
Buffy looked up and down the street, lit by street lamps, and noticed the various cars, most of them belonging to her friends, parked by the sidewalk.  
  
"What's going on," she questioned, her own smile peaked by curiosity, gracing her mouth.  
  
But Spike wouldn't respond as he walked up the front steps to the door. Despite the obvious evidence of people, the house was dark inside.  
  
Following him, Buffy watched Spike open the door, and pushed it open. Only, he let Buffy walk through first.  
  
She eyed him as she walked in, trying to find out his plan, but he only smirked at her.  
  
The door shut behind them, and suddenly the entire room was bathed in light.  
  
Joyce, Aurora, Clem, Xander, Cordelia, Meredith, Tara, Giles, Anya, Willow, and some guy Buffy had never met before, were gathered in the room, most of them (save Giles, who thought it was a stupid act) wore party hats.  
  
"Happy Birthday, Buffy!"  
  
Paper confetti flew through the air, and the group ran to her at once. Buffy wasn't sure who was hugging her, taking her coat, or giving her kisses on the cheek, because she couldn't see through the tears that had welled up in her eyes.  
  
"M-my birthday isn't until W-Wednesday," she stuttered out, a cross between laughing and happily sobbing.  
  
"Hence the surprise!" Xander led her to a couch so she could finish crying, and then gaze at the mountain of presents that had formed on Cordelia's carefully chosen coffee table.  
  
Once Buffy had finished her tear-fest, she greeted everyone properly. Willow soon introduced her to Oz, the musician boyfriend she had mentioned before. He was just a tad shorter than Willow, the tips of his gelled red hair blue, and he causally shook Buffy's hand.  
  
Tara and Anya stepped inside the kitchen to bring the cake out, while Xander and the males of the group followed to fix up some drinks. It gave Buffy enough time to grab Joyce and talk to her.  
  
"You didn't have to do this," Buffy said, although she was grateful.  
  
"Don't thank me," Joyce responded, "Thank Spike. This was all his idea."  
  
Buffy turned to stare at Spike, who had just come back from the kitchen, and was talking to Willow. He saw her, gave her a quick smile, and winked before he turned his attention back to Willow.  
  
Before she could do anything else, Tara and Anya re-appeared, carrying a large icebox cake from the Magic Box. In pink icing, Anya had written "Happy Birthday, Buffy: Goddess of Wal-Mart." Everyone burst into laughter when they read it.  
  
The traditional "Happy Birthday" song broke out, and all Buffy could do was look at the faces of her new, mish-mashed, odd, and certainly loving, family.  
  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&  
  
chrestomanci- Who's my bitch? You is, fool! So glad we're back together, even if you still need to learn how to shower. Alan Rickman is the best, even if his character in "Love Actually" was a total slimeball. See you in the hall.  
  
Imzadi- I am a total Dru supporter, except when she's trying to ruin Spuffy moments or making out with Spike. But, with her as Spike's sister, I don't think we will have many of those. Except if you want this story to get really weird . . . Many kisses.  
  
moxie fic- Thanks for the compliment. Hope you like this one.  
  
FirstAidKid- In my book, Spike/Dru is badness. But, as I said, they are good in the friendship or sibling category. You rule too, and Happy belated New Year.  
  
O'DOIL RULES!: Could you please just sign in, Amy? You are too lazy. Fine, OK, Seth and Summer are going to be together, but I still hope that Anna will come back next season to break up this stupid relationship. And, fine, Emma can live with you, but you will never be able to look at my Buddy Christ statue again, bitch! Love you much, and I miss you much! 


	15. Vanished

Disclaimer: I will not claim to own anything of this story. Joss Whedon created the characters, Billie Letts wrote "Where the Heart Is", which this is based on.  
  
Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language.  
  
Author's Notes: Sorry I took so long to post. School is an utter nightmare of homework, and I just wish I could go live in a little cave all by myself. Hey, so . . . yeah, don't know what else to say. Umm, read "The daVinci Code"! It's fabulous.  
  
PS: Happy Groundhog's Day. ____________________________________________________________________________  
  
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Chapter Fifteen- Vanished  
  
It was still dark when Buffy's alarm clock went off Saturday at six. But, she had been up for hours, staring at the ceiling, while trying to stay warm huddled underneath a mountain of blankets. A cold front had just recently hit the town of Sunnydale, and many of the local weathermen were predicting that it might actually be a white Christmas. The residents had taken to pulling out the warm, fluffy blankets and coats from the attic.  
  
Like any normal person who had a day off, Buffy should have been sleeping. In fact, she should have been planning to wake up by at least ten, then spend the day in her pajamas.  
  
"Gotta get up, gotta get up . . ." She repeated the mantra, willing herself to get out of bed. Her mind was alert, excited for the events planned that December day, while her body was refusing to leave the snuggly paradise.  
  
Finally, she was able to pull herself out of bed, almost immediately regretting it once the cold air hit her body. She pulled on her baby blue bathrobe and matching slippers, and snuck outside, hoping not to wake Joyce.  
  
She made a pit stop in her pursuit of breakfast. Opening Aurora's door slowly, she poked her head in.  
  
Little bubbly, baby sounds were coming from the crib, a beautiful stained wood one that Tara helped her find at a flea market. Buffy crept in, and shut the door behind her.  
  
"Hi honey," she whispered, peaking into Aurora's crib. The baby smiled back, recognizing her mom instantly. Reaching out her chubby arms, she began to coo.  
  
Buffy picked up her daughter, chuckling as she began to squirm in her yellow one-sie with little ducks in rain-boots printed all over the fabric.  
  
"Yeah," Buffy said, seating herself in the nearby rocking chair, "I don't like ducks that much, either."  
  
Aurora knew what was about to happen, and began making her hungry noises.  
  
"Mmm, mmm," she began to whine.  
  
"Mmm, mmm," Buffy mimicked, opening up her pajama shirt. Willow had advised her early on to keep breastfeeding, at least until Aurora was nine months old. Also, as Anya had later pointed out, not buying formula saved money, and Buffy couldn't argue with that.  
  
Rubbing Aurora's head, Buffy noticed that some of her hair was growing back. Aurora had lost all her hair the day she turned five weeks old, but Willow had assured her that it was normal. The hair that was coming in now was finer, although it was unfortunately still dark brown, just like Angel's. At least every other feature on the baby seemed to come from her side, which might not be such a good thing after all.  
  
Buffy had just burped Aurora when her door opened a crack.  
  
Joyce, also in her bathrobe, poked her head in, and smiled sleepily when she spotted Buffy.  
  
"I was just going to check on her," she commented, punctuating it with a yawn.  
  
"You're too late," Buffy responded, sticking her tongue out.  
  
Rolling her eyes, Joyce entered the room, and began fixing the sheets in Aurora's crib.  
  
"You don't mind watching her all day, do you?" Buffy nervously glanced at the older woman.  
  
Joyce laughed. "You couldn't keep me away from her. What time do you think you'll get back?"  
  
"Why, gotta hot date?" teased Buffy.  
  
"As a matter of fact, I do."  
  
Smiling sarcastically, Joyce resumed making Aurora's bed, while Buffy tried to suppress the image of Joyce and Clem, naked and sweaty together . . .  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Morning Anya!" Buffy walked into the Giles' kitchen, and seated herself across from the woman.  
  
Anya, still blurry-eyed and obviously wearing Giles's bathrobe to cover her cream silk nightgown, took a long sip of coffee before responding.  
  
"I don't see how you could be so cheerful at an hour like this, especially since it is a weekend and there is no reason to get up early."  
  
"Lots of coffee . . ."  
  
Anya raised an eyebrow. "Just coffee? No drugs involved?"  
  
Buffy kept a straight face, though inwardly she was beaming.  
  
"No drugs, except for my huge crack problem. I'm just excited!" Buffy began to bounce impatiently in the chair. "Where's my Partner-In-Crime?"  
  
Groaning, Anya drank the rest of her coffee, then poured herself some more. "You mean Mr. 'Never-wake-me-up-unless-the-whole-bloody-house-is-on-fire- and-even-if-it-is-just-let-me-die'? I poured a bucket of ice water on his head just a few minutes ago."  
  
Buffy gasped. "You didn't!"  
  
"You said you'd find me a tree if woke him up. I do my work correctly and efficiently."  
  
Suddenly, the kitchen door swung open violently, and Spike stormed through, pajamas soaking wet and little droplets of water trailing down his face as he carried in his drenched sheets. Ignoring the two women, he marched to the laundry room, the door slamming behind him.  
  
"I don't think he's gonna be a happy camper today," Buffy muttered, sinking down in the chair.  
  
Anya shrugged her shoulders. "I don't think he'll be too angry. This wasn't the first time I've done it."  
  
"You're kidding."  
  
"How else do you think I got him to go to school when he was eighteen?"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
By eight, the time when the two left the library, Spike had calmed down. He had only yelled at Anya for two minutes, and she had shut him up by making him a plate of French toast.  
  
"So what's the plan for today, luv," Spike asked as he jumped into the jeep Buffy had borrowed from Joyce for this day. "Lunch? Movies? Buy me pretty things?"  
  
Rolling her eyes, Buffy shut the driver-side door and buckled her seatbelt. "You and I are getting Christmas trees for our homes. And, before you decide to pick out some half-dead twig for the library, Anya gave me a detailed description of acceptable trees to buy."  
  
Said list was five pages long.  
  
"Well, lead on Ma Capitan!"  
  
Buffy gave him a strange look, and started the car up.  
  
In an extraordinary display of capitalism that would have made Anya weep, seven Christmas tree lots had popped up overnight, joining the five that had been in business since Thanksgiving.  
  
Noon passed, and Buffy had gone through half of them, not finding a tree she liked. Every single one she had looked at was too short, too brown, too "needle-ly", too bare, or, in the case of one specimen, "too green".  
  
"Holy God! There is someone in this world more anal-retentive than Anya!" Spike exclaimed in amazement as he paid for the tree he had found in lot #8, one that fit his aunt's description.  
  
"I'm not anal, I'm just picky. None of these are right," Buffy commented, staring at the Spike's tree, which, in her opinion, looked a tad blue.  
  
As they were carrying the tree to the jeep, Buffy saw a red minivan pull up in a nearby space.  
  
"Look," she pointed out, "The Harris wagon."  
  
Xander, who was driving the car, saw Spike and Buffy as he parked, and after unhooking Meredith from her car seat, walked over.  
  
"Doin' alright, mate?" Spike inquired.  
  
"Not as bad as yesterday," Xander muttered, turning to watch Cordelia step out of the minivan, ignoring her husband and friends as she grabbed Meredith and stormed into the tree lot. "I think she's getting over it."  
  
Reaching a hand out and mussing up his hair, Buffy giggled. "She's never going to forgive you."  
  
"It's not like I was the only one there!" Xander began to pout, and began walking in the direction Cordelia went. "I better go try and make good."  
  
"Diamonds help," observed Buffy, although the two males rolled their eyes.  
  
"See you later!" Xander jogged off.  
  
Spike shook his head as he secured the tree to the roof. "Less than five months, and they're pregnant again. Can't believe it."  
  
"Well, it's not all that uncommon." Buffy remembered her own little almost- accident with Riley Finn just three months after Aurora's birth.  
  
"Whaddya mean?"  
  
"Nothing," she quickly said, climbing into the jeep. "Let's get out of here."  
  
Lots nine through twelve flashed by, and Buffy still hadn't found her perfect tree. Yet, there was hope. One customer at lot eleven told her of a small Christmas tree place a half-hour drive from Sunnydale, which had beautiful, but spendy, trees. Buffy had no problem with spending the money, so soon the two were off towards this secret tree lot.  
  
Spike leaned his head against the window, watching the scenery pass by.  
  
"I don't see what's so important about these damn trees. I mean, you buy it, put it up in your living room, then take it down when it dies. Not that big of a bloody deal," he groaned.  
  
Buffy sighed, taking off the ski cap she had worn all day.  
  
"Did you always have a tree?"  
  
"Yeah. Why?"  
  
"I didn't. In fact, I've never had a real Christmas."  
  
Unbelieving, Spike turned to stare at her.  
  
"Almost every single year, I was back in a group home for Christmas. You see, money's always really tight around that time, and most of the foster families couldn't afford to feed an extra mouth, so I'd get sent back. I mean, yeah, I'd get a gift or two from those nice people who'd do those giving tree things, but to me, Christmas was a normal day. When I ran away and got a job, I'd always have to work on Christmas because everyone else had families, or someone to be with. But now . . ."  
  
Buffy began to laugh, although there were a few tears falling down her cheeks. "Now, I finally have somewhere to be. I get to wake up extra early on Christmas morning, run down the stairs in my bathrobe and slippers, sit by the fireplace with a cup of hot chocolate, and help my daughter open her presents. She's going to get the Christmas I never got, and I want to make sure every single one is perfect."  
  
With the back of her hand, she wiped away the tears. "I guess that sounds kinda stupid," she cracked, gazing over at her friend.  
  
His face was anything but smiling. "No, it doesn't."  
  
A few minutes later, they pulled into the secret tree lot. Spike had stopped complaining. Actually, he leaped out of the car before Buffy had turned off the engine, ran to the manager, and demanded he show them the most perfect tree on the lot.  
  
The perfect tree did exist, a six-foot tall Douglas Fir, full and green, without a single bare spot. Almost twice of what Buffy had intended to pay, she was able to talk the guy into knocking off thirty dollars. It soon joined Anya's tree on the roof.  
  
"You know what," Buffy commented as they drove back towards Sunnydale, "I almost wish Aurora knew what Christmas was all about, so she could get excited too."  
  
Spike laughed. "She's prolly just rolling around in her playpen, wondering why everyone else is getting so excited. After all, a . . ." He frowned, deep in thought.  
  
"A what?"  
  
"Oh!" He sat straight up, a big smile on his face. "Today's the sixteenth, right?"  
  
"Yeah, so?"  
  
"It's your little girl's five month birthday."  
  
Buffy didn't care that she was in the middle of an intersection, or that there were three cars waiting behind her, because she slammed hard on the brakes.  
  
"What?"  
  
"What the hell's wrong?" yelled Spike, looking all around to see if something had spooked Buffy.  
  
A chill ran down Buffy's spine. "Aurora can't be five months old!"  
  
"Yeah, she is." Spike spoke slowly, unsure of why she had suddenly gone pale. "Born July sixteenth. She's five months today." He paused, watching her take it all in, her eyes wide. "What's wrong?"  
  
They heard a siren, and both turned around to watch it. A police car flew past them, lights flashing, heading in the same direction they were going.  
  
Not answering, Buffy jammed her foot down on the gas pedal and sped towards Revello Drive.  
  
By the time they reached home, four cop cars were parked outside. Neighbors were milling around, watching the uniformed officers run in and out of the door. Both jumped out of the car without bothering to turn it off, and ran over to Joyce and Clem, who were on the front steps talking to an officer.  
  
"What happened?" Buffy screamed over the noise.  
  
Joyce was white, the blood gone from her face. "I was gone only a few minutes . . ." she whimpered.  
  
"WHAT HAPPENED?"  
  
Two cops passed by, both of them rapidly talking, so Buffy and Spike could only catch a bit of what they were saying.  
  
" . . . know who took the baby . . ."  
  
Spike watched them go by, suddenly terrified. "Not . . ."  
  
Buffy couldn't feel her legs. They had disappeared from underneath her, and she fell on the ground. Everything turned cold, and she wrapped her hands around her body. Silently, she began to tear up.  
  
"Clem?" she asked, her voice weak, "Where's Aurora?"  
  
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MySweetAudrina- Do you actually think that I would let Buffy get pregnant by Riley? Damn, that's just one scary thought I'm going to have to repress. Maybe, if someone wants to write some scary, funny BtVS story, that could be it? Nah . . . I'd be too scared to read. Thanks for loving this fic so much.  
  
Imzadi- Sorry I didn't establish this more, but Meredith is Xander and Cordelia's child, the one Cordy was pregnant with in the beginning of her story. I felt that we had already gone through one pregnancy already, and *SPOILER ALERT* this won't be the first pregnancy for the Harris's. What happened during this chapter for them is going to happen a lot. *END SPOILER* Oh god, Riley creating a child? Ick. And, sorry, but I think Lindsey is going to disappear into my vault of BtVS and AtS cameos for my stories. Don't hate me too much.  
  
chrestomanci- What horse do I have to screw? Unless you are talking about Emma's fat ass (I so love you darling, do not kill me!) I have no horse. And it's a known fact that I will be going to hell to join my father, so why are you even mentioning it? Kisses for you, although I never wish to touch you.  
  
Spikes-gal787- I'm sorry to say that Buffy isn't the brightest girl in the world, so she won't be finding out soon about a certain blond guy's crush on her. So, you will just have to settle for the little moments of Spuffiness I throw in to keep myself going. But, you just wait, because I promise you'll like the results. I do agree with Cordy's assertion of Riley, because he is an idiot.  
  
Mita487- Innapropriate language is what I love, and do best. And, thanks for the sweet things you say! I feel all special!  
  
Comedia- You know exactly what I think of you. I don't even have to say. OK, fine . . . you are a stuck up, bitchy, dumb-assed little witch who makes Kelly look like Sarah! AAAAHHHH, too scary a thought! No, I love you much, and apologize (kinda) for all the mean things I say. Sydney is the best!  
  
Kendra- Naughty, naughty girl for indulging in fan fic while working. You are very smart, and I will use your example if I ever get a good job. Hope you keep reading.  
  
Kay- I try to update when I can, but school is always getting in my way. Just like you, I hate it when my favorite authors don't update quickly. But, I try, so please be patient. Pretty please? 


	16. Absolve

Disclaimer: I will not claim to own anything of this story. Joss Whedon created the characters, Billie Letts wrote "Where the Heart Is", which this is based on.  
  
Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language.  
  
Author's Notes: Yeah, I don't have time for any notes right now. I'm posting in between watching episodes of Alias season two on DVD with my friends. Love you al l much.  
  
PS: Death to the WB for canceling Angel.   
  


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Chapter Sixteen- Absolve  
  
Staring into her cup of tea, the dark pink colored liquid already half- drained, Buffy tried to ignore the commotion all around her.  
  
Nearly half the police officers in the Sunnydale area (or maybe less than that, seeing how Buffy wasn't keeping count) had gathered in the Revello Drive house, searching for clues and taking statements. Buffy, Joyce, Spike, and Clem had been ushered into the kitchen so the officers could speak to them. Mostly, they were talking to the two women. Clem had gone about making tea for everyone, and Spike was deep in conversation with Xander, who had been called in to help on his day off.  
  
Almost everyone was yelling, creating such a din that Buffy wished she had earplugs. Guys in uniform rushing up and down the stairs, taking pictures, going through boxes stored in the basement, anything that could tell them who took Aurora.  
  
"Does anyone have a grudge against you?" asked the officer questioning Buffy. He was sitting across the table from her, writing scribblings into his little notebook.  
  
"I don't think so." Her voice was strained and small, almost a whisper.  
  
Automatically, he scrawled something into the book, and turned over to Joyce, who was sitting next to Buffy. "How about you Joyce? Do you know anyone who would try to hurt you?"  
  
Joyce rolled her eyes. She had been asked this question ever since the police had arrived on the scene, and it wasn't bringing them any closer to finding the baby.  
  
"Not unless you'd consider the Salvation Army Santas who yell at me when I don't give them money enemies," she responded dryly.  
  
"What about Hank? You two didn't have the cleanest divorce ever seen?"  
  
"Hank?" Buffy lifted her head up from her cup, staring at Joyce, "Who's Hank?"  
  
Sighing, Joyce waved a hand in the air. "My asshole ex-husband." She turned back to the officer. "Hank wouldn't do something like that. We aren't on the friendliest terms, but he wouldn't try to hurt me. At least, not this way."  
  
"Do you think the baby's father would have done this?" another officer asked, standing right beside officer #1.  
  
Buffy didn't answer. At this moment, Spike and Xander came back into the kitchen. Taking one look around the room, the blond's eyes settled on Buffy, and he went immediately to her.  
  
"'K mate, I'm gonna take the lady outside for a mo', let her get some air." He leaned down to her. "That all right, pet," he whispered softly into her ear.  
  
Blankly, she nodded, and let him help her up.  
  
A younger cop ran into the room, carrying something in his hands. He gave it to Xander while murmuring something important about the object.  
  
"I don't think so," Xander responded to the cop. "You don't keep this in Aurora's room, do you?" he asked Joyce and Buffy, holding up a plain, white Bible.  
  
Confused, Buffy shook her head. But Joyce gasped loudly.  
  
"Oh SHIT!"  
  
Everyone turned to the older woman, who put her hands up to her mouth.  
  
"I know who took her!"  
  
"Who?" asked Xander, rushing to the table.  
  
"They came once before, about two months ago, and they were holding Bibles like that. They wanted to talk to Buffy, some crap about bringing the word of God to her. A man and a woman from Alabama . . . Washougal, Alabama."  
  
Buffy felt like she was going to faint again, but Spike was there to catch her.  
  
"What is it?" he asked.  
  
Stuttering, Buffy felt new tears drop down her cheeks. "I got a note in the hospital from someone in Washougal. They said that I was a whore, and that Aurora was going to burn in hell . . ."  
  
The room fell silent, almost everyone staring around the room, unsure of what to do.  
  
Xander wasn't like that for long. "What the fuck is wrong with you people?" he screamed at the motionless officers. "Get on the radios! Send some guys over to the hotels in the area! Have them search the records for any recent customers from Alabama! Pull over any rental car, or ones with Alabama plates! HURRY THE FUCK UP!"  
  
Chaos resumed as nearly all the officers ran to their squad cars, while the rest in the house began yelling into their radios or cell phones.  
  
Turning back to Buffy, Xander felt his droop as he watched the young girl near the point of collapsing onto the tile floor. He couldn't imagine going through this if someone had taken Meredith.  
  
"We'll find her, Buffy. You'll be fine here, right?" He looked directly at Spike.  
  
"Everything will be fine once Aurora's back with her mum, so get out of here!" he snapped back.  
  
Nodding, Xander bolted out of the room, leaving the four alone, more lost than they had ever been.  
  


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"Do you believe in God?" Buffy asked Spike, wrapping her arms around her knees. Spike, soon after Xander left, took Buffy into the backyard to get her some air. She was sitting next to him on the porch steps, trying to keep warm in the cold night.  
  
"Never met the big guy, so I wouldn't know," Spike answered, putting his duster over Buffy's shivering form. He adjusted it, making sure she was covered, then left his hand on her back, rubbing small circles on the leather.  
  
Sniffling, Buffy leaned into him, putting her head on his shoulder.  
  
"Does God hate me?" she whimpered, not wanting to cry for the millionth time that day.  
  
Shocked, Spike stared down at her. "Why would God hate you?"  
  
"I wasn't married when I had Aurora. Isn't that a bad thing?"  
  
"Not to me. It wasn't your fault."  
  
"I don't think that matters." With the sleeve of her shirt, she wiped her nose. "I think God's punishing me for it."  
  
Spike sat up, then pulled Buffy up so he could look in her eyes.  
  
"He wouldn't dare do anything to you. You are one of the most . . . THE most wonderful, funniest, bitchiest, insane . . . most beautiful woman I've ever met, and God would be a fool to punish you." He lifted a hand up, and began to caress her cheek. "And if it were up to me, I'd-"  
  
Before he could finish, Joyce ran out to the porch, startling the two.  
  
"Xander just called," she yelled breathlessly, "They know something!"  
  


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Five minutes later, Joyce parked the jeep across the street from Sunnydale Park.  
  
Buffy had spent much of her afternoons the first weeks she lived in the Wal- Mart. It looked nothing like the sunny, green area she had grown used to during the summer days. It was near ten at night, cold and dark, all of the trees bare and skeletal. Five police cars were idling in the parking lot, and many of the same officers who had been holding up those first few hours in Joyce's home were milling around the park grounds.  
  
Hugging her coat close to her body, Buffy ran across the street, Spike, Joyce, and Clem following behind her. She ducked under the yellow police tape tied across the entrance in the chain-link fence.  
  
One cop, a guy nearing forty, who had just gotten on duty, stood near this.  
  
"You can't be here!" he screamed at the four, not knowing who they were. "This is a crime scene! Just wait on the other side . . ."  
  
Buffy ignored him, paying attention instead to the ambulance that had just pulled into the parking lot, and the twelve officers who were hurrying in the direction of the main fountain.  
  
Spike saw them, also.  
  
"Run," he whispered to her, before he pulled his hand back, and punched the old cop right in the nose.  
  
Gathering all of her strength, Buffy broke into a sprint, taking long strides so she went as fast as she had ever gone before. She felt her breath catch in her chest, but she ignored it. She reached the fountain before the officers did.  
  
Searching around the stone base of the fountain she had sat many times before, she looked for any sign of her little girl. And, there it was, a white bundle lying on top of the cement seating area.  
  
Cautiously, she approached the baby, noticing how it wasn't moving. The fear that had been growing inside her stomach exploded, her hands shaking as she reached a hand out towards the bundle.  
  
But, as soon as she did, the bundle began to whimper.  
  
Buffy hastily picked up Aurora, holding her close to her body and kissing the child's head. She began to cry once more that night, but these were tears of joy.  
  
Xander, who had been one of the officers Buffy had seen going towards the fountain, now held the officers back, and watched with relief the scene before him. Looking towards the entrance, he saw that four cops were restraining a very angry Spike, while a fifth lay on his back, holding his nose.  
  
"A squad car found the Washougal car a half-hour ago. The two admitted everything, and told us where she'd be," he explained, while directing two officers to break up the fight between his co-workers and friends.  
  
Nodding, Buffy felt her little girl nuzzle her face into her mother's neck. Aurora would be fine, the doctors would later confirm, even though she had been out in the cold for a while. But, she was here, and she was alive, and Buffy would never let her go again.  
  
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Audrina16- I made a note a few chapters earlier that Buffy is scared of the number five. Bad things seem to happen when she's around fives. But anyway, thanks much for the review. And Riley+Buffy= Icky.  
  
Imzadi- Oooh, see, Angel doesn't give a shit about Aurora. I dislike people like that. I'm very sorry about Most Rare Vision, and after I get done with this puppy, I'll get cracking on that one. I promise.  
  
Spufette- Even though in the real world it took me fifteen days to find Aurora, the police of Sunnydale found her in a few hours. I'm not that good at finding things.  
  
Mita427- Don't you worry about the innapropriate language. Even though there are now little kids in the story, Buffy will occasionally let out a "cocksucker" or a "fucking asswipe". I like the "booby-headed bastard"! May I steal it for the eventual confrontation between Aurora's parents?  
  
Spike's Hottie- Very good name. I hope you got a little bit of Spuffy jollies after reading this. I hope I hope I hope.  
  
FirstAidKid- I would never let Aurora get hurt. Don't you even think it! Also, the fives will be coming back soon, so watch out for them.  
  
Ekmw511- Oh my god! That is an awesome review! Hope you like this one.  
  
Spiffy 1- Yep, you got it right. Isn't "Where the Heart Is" a good movie?  
  
Chrestomanci- Christmas tree good. Fire hurty. Cheese gassy. Who moved my water bottle? Oh, I understand now: You are the Jedi Shrimp. Much love. Shplahaha!  
  
Comedia- Maybe if you got up off your ghetto booty and inspired me, I would write! Huh, didja ever think of that, bitch? Hope you don't die of meningitus or the plague. Snootchie bootchie!  
  
Enema- Um . . . thanks?  
  
Kendra- You bad person! Oh, what the hell, work sucks and you should take every opportunity to be a disgruntled employee. It's like I always say: What's the point of being employed if you can't perform some criminal acts.  
  
Me- Fuck you! Miss you lots, girl. My room is all sad and empty. Oh, fuck Cory.  
  
Pokey- Thank you.  
  
Psychovampgurl- Are you really a psycho vamp? That'd be really cool . . . Hey, I update whenever school isn't totally sucking me dry, so I apologize. 


	17. Meanwhile

Disclaimer: The only thing I can feel is the growing welt on my head as I become conscious. I am tied to a metal chair in a dark, dank room. There is this man in front of me, Chinese by the look of it, and he doesn't seem that friendly. Before I can react, he pulls out this tool I cannot identify and shoves it in my mouth. Ah, a jaw spreader, like the dentists use to pull teeth. So, it's to be torture. "I will ask you this once, Miss Lily- bug," he says in a heavily accented English, "Who do you work for?" I mumble a few words before he takes the spreader out. "First off, I just gotta say I love Joss Whedon and Billie Letts, who I stole this story from," I begin. "Here's what you gotta do: Write this down- E.M.E.T.I.B." He does so. "Reverse it," I instruct. I can see the puzzled look on his face as he reverses it, but the look suddenly dissolves into a very angry and dangerous one, and I know I am in for a world of pain.  
  
Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language.  
  
Author's Notes: I decided that I am bored of my normal disclaimer, and went back to using the fun ones I created a while ago. Hope you like it, and find it kinda funny. Well, here's a shock: I've been nominated again! The people at the 'Till the End of the World Spuffy Awards have told me that I have been nominated for best "Wow A Baby Award"! Well, I don't know who did it, but I thank you so much for this honor. You can get to the link through my author's page. Anyway, today's chapter is break from Sunnydale, and we're a gonna see what our favorite guy Angel is up to. Yeah, I thought you didn't care! Well, kisses!  
  
PS: Death to the WB for canceling Angel. Oh, and the disclaimer is "taken" *coughstolencough* from the first episode of Alias. If Angel isn't renewed by sheer force from the fans, Alias will become my favorite running show on TV. Wanna know my all-time favorite? BJ and the Bear. Nah, just kidding. BtVS forever!!! ____________________________________________________________________________  
  
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Chapter Seventeen- Meanwhile . . .  
  
Around midnight, at a small bus station outside the city limits of Nashville, Tennessee, a Greyhound bus came to a stop outside one of the covered terminals. As the engine idled, a few passengers slowly got out, among them a college student, two cross-country trekkers, and Angel.  
  
The night was warm, and as soon as he got outside, he shed his jacket. It was the same one he wore the evening he had been brought into jail a year ago. In fact, all of the clothes he wore were from that night, the only possessions that had been saved for him when he entered jail.  
  
He had been surprised when, only a week earlier, he had been informed that he would be released, earlier than expected. A California initiative that would have given more money to law enforcement had failed to pass, and the jails were overcrowded, so they began to release the lesser offenders. Angel was the first of the batch.  
  
With the few bucks that he had received, Angel bought a bus ticket to Nashville.  
  
As he began to walk into town, he spotted a bar across the road. Only a few bucks remaining from his traveling cash, he knew he should spend it on a hotel room. But, he ignored his intuitions, slung his knapsack and guitar over his shoulder, and ran quickly across the asphalt.  
  
He'd have the first beer he'd been allowed in a year, and toast his future. He came into Nashville an ex-inmate; he'd leave a star.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Miss, your three-fifteen is here," the secretary announced over the intercom.  
  
Rolling her eyes, Glory Morrigan pressed the button. "Supurb, send the fucker in. Oh, and did my new shoes arrive?"  
  
"Not yet." There was a hesitation in her voice.  
  
"Is there a problem, Blanche?" Glory asked, sugaring the malice in her voice.  
  
"Ummm." She could here Blanche fidgeting with the papers on her desk. "I don't think that order went out. My husband was in the hospital and I was a little . . ."  
  
Glory darted her head up as her door opened, and openly grimaced when her "three-fifteen" walked in, carrying a beat up guitar.  
  
"Sit down," she ordered the guy, trying not to pay attention to his crooked teeth as she pressed the intercom button again. "Alright Blanche, you have until five tonight to fix this problem, or your husband won't be the only one in the hospital. Capiche?"  
  
"Yes, Miss."  
  
Slumping down in her seat, Glory studied the guy. He was looking around her office, eyebrow raised, taking in the red décor and abstract art that made the office look more like a lounge.  
  
"You have a name, or are you just as retarded as you look?" Glory demanded. Actually, he didn't look half-bad. Tall, dark, dangerous. But those teeth . . .  
  
"Angel," he answered, staring directly at her once he turned his attention back to her.  
  
"Angel?" she stifled a giggle. "You a transvestite or something?"  
  
He didn't flinch. "Look, can I just play my song for you?"  
  
She shifted in her seat. It wasn't fun when they didn't react.  
  
"You have two minutes," she sighed, taking out a tape recorder. "After that, I'll make my decision. If I don't like it, I never want to see you again in my office. Is that clear?" When he nodded, Glory clicked the record button. "Go," she instructed.  
  
Taking a second to adjust the strap on his shoulder, Angel just jumped into the song. It was his favorite one, a ballad he had written during his second month in jail. He had also gotten three stitches after his cell mate, Randal, stabbed him with a contraband fork for playing it too often.  
  
He watched Glory's face as he played. It was stone as she stared at the wall to her left, her feet resting on top of her desk. She squinted when she saw a fleck of something on her dark red, strappy sandals, and reached over to pick it off just as Angel launched into chorus.  
  
Finally, he came to the end, surprised when she didn't cut him off after the two minute mark. He finished the final chord, then swung the guitar strap off him and placed the instrument next to him. Glory was still staring at the wall, deep in thought.  
  
She stood up, adjusted her (also) red miniskirt, and folded her arms across her chest as she gave Angel a once-over.  
  
"You have no idea how much I am going to have to shell out to make you presentable. I'm not going to represent any shmuck who looks like a homeless man. Pray to God that you make me a Hell of a lot of money."  
  
Reaching her hand over the desk, she waited until Angel put his hand out, and the two shook.  
  
"My name is Glory Morrigan, and I now represent you. Try not to piss me off."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The stylist tsked as he combed his fingers through Angel's hair.  
  
"What the fuck do you shampoo with? Dishwashing detergent?"  
  
Mumbling some response, Angel tried not to stare at the woman at his feet, rubbing some white stuff in his feet at a quick pace. Another person was applying a green concoction to his face, muttering about pores.  
  
Angel's jaw was aching. He had just gone through a four-hour dental procedure to fix what Glory referred to as his "horribly hideous teeth". Now, she had given him over to the hyperactive world of beauty and hair care.  
  
She suddenly materialized out of no-where, talking on a cell phone as her assistant followed, nodding whenever her employer demanded something.  
  
"I want it by noon. Do-able? Great. Ciao." She closed the phone just as she stopped next to Angel, gave her assistant some random order, and then assessed the work she was paying for.  
  
Angel didn't know a lot about his employer. When they signed the contract, she had stressed the fact that he would do everything she wanted, or suffer. Her record agency was a small one, but the names she represented were well known in the country music world. The fact that Angel was now part of this list was a miracle.  
  
"How's it going, Tony?" she asked the hair stylist as he rubbed a blue cream into Angel's hair.  
  
With a big sigh, he grabbed some weird-looking scissors. "I like your idea of making him into a neo-Johnny Cash, but that might change the whole highlight scheme."  
  
Nodding, she patted him on the shoulder. "Know you can do it, Tony." She glanced down, laughing at the bewildered look on his face. "You better get used to it," she ordered Angel with a giggle, "Because you will never go to a Super Cuts again as long as I own your ass. By the way, I changed your name. 'Angel' is just too girly."  
  
Growling, Angel made a face as he turned the other way. He was almost regretting leaving prison.  
  
"So, what is it?" he asked, masking the resentment in his voice.  
  
"Liam Sloane. It's classy, but rough and dangerous. Right, Lucy?" she asked her assistant, who had just returned with a Grande Caramel Macciato for Glory. Lucy just nodded.  
  
Glaring at her, Angel tried to control his rage. "Do I get a say in anything?"  
  
Laughing in her sugar-sweet way, Glory leaned down to speak in his ear. "The day your song becomes number one, you'll get to choose your underwear and socks."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Downtown Boston was soaking wet, and Angel was trying to stay dry in the phone booth as members of his band were trying to flag down a taxi.  
  
Glory was on the other end of the phone, pissed off that his phone call had pulled her away from a dinner with clients.  
  
"What the fuck do you want?" she growled.  
  
"Eric almost got his ass kicked by this drunk bastard WHILE we were doing our set. Don was late because he was arguing with his girlfriend. And I am sick and tired of playing these shitty bars for shitty pay, and staying in shitty motels while your other, more important clients are doing music videos and radio interviews! You told me I'd record in six months. It's been a year! I've put my ass on the line, and you haven't done shit for me!" he screamed, not caring when his band members were gawking at him.  
  
There was a pause on the other line, and Angel could just imagine Glory standing with a hand on her hip, tapping her stupid red dress with her stupid nails, making some ridiculous "angry" face.  
  
"I said six months? Well, then it'll be six more months!"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"This is too great," Angel muttered, trying to take in all that was around him. He couldn't believe that it had finally happened.  
  
Glory's voice came into the little room, and he turned to look at her through the glass separating him from the sound booth.  
  
"You finally going to stop drooling, and actually record?" she asked, her tone openly teasing.  
  
"Glory," he admitted, grinning slightly, "You are my Goddess."  
  
She smiled too. "Thanks. Now, shut up and make me some gold," she ordered.  
  
Clearing his throat, Angel adjusted the headphones over his ears, and waited for the technician to give the cue.  
  
"Here we go. 'A Place Called Home' by Liam Sloane, take one," the technician announced for the audio recording, just as the music filtered into Angel's headphones.  
  
Before Angel opened his mouth to sing, he finally knew that he could die a happy man.  
  
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Spiffy6- So sorry, my darling, but there won't be any pure Spuffiness right at this moment. It's going to happen in a while, but not immediately. I'm trying to follow the story as close as possible to the movie, and you know where the Novalee and Forney-ness occur. Again, sorry, but until then there will only be dreams of Spuffiness.  
  
Audrina16- Hey, it's OK. I'm not that bright, so I'd wouldn't be surprised if I made that kinda mistake. You aren't the first one to ask that question. My fic is hardcore? Well, that's cool, if unexpected.  
  
Pokey- Thank you much!  
  
Imzadi- I don't think Lindsey will be appearing in any more chapters of this story. I have no reason for him, unless . . . OH! Idea! But, I'm not telling. Nevermind what I said.  
  
Mita427- Oh, pulled that twist on you, didn't I, skank! Please don't hate me because of what I said, I'm just playing the inappropriate language game. So, a piece of blowed-up fucking stank ass cock to you, and hope you like it.  
  
Ekmw511- I AM THE SUSPENSE MASTER! OK, I'm not, but I can dream, can't I? Thank you very much for the compliments, and the "awww"/  
  
Psychovampgurl- Got a little confused on the whole "vampiness" thing, but it's good now. Don't try to turn into one. A friend of mine did that, and the cops were finding bodies for weeks. JK. I'm gonna try my bestest to finish this story, because I have friends who live across the hall who will kill me if I do not finish. School sucks, and don't do homework! That's how the man gets you.  
  
Comedia- Just this once, I don't wish you dead. No, in fact, I wish you were tied to a concrete wall by barbed wire and Diamond Dave and Bashful were allowed to play Mistress of Pain in front of you. Then, I would come by and tear out your vitals, and let Cathy talk to you about how great republicans are! Much love, and hate.  
  
Feistypumpkin- Yeah, I don't like Angel much. To quote the Buffybot, "His hair sticks straight up, and he's bloody stupid." Thanks for reading.  
  
Angely- As I explained above, I'm not a real big Angel fan. But, I like him more than I like Riley (who I like less than syphilis), so I plan on "redeeming" your poor Angel in the end.  
  
Riley- I forgive you for your name. Hey, dontcha love it when you suddenly come upon a story and just can't stop reading it? Well, the fact that it happened to you with my story makes me happy. You say nice things, and that also makes me happy. And, why make up character names when you can just plop in people from the Buffyverse? Thanks!  
  
Chrestomanci- I will update when I feel like it, whore! Just who do you think you are to dictate when I write? Are you President? Are you advisor to the Hamilton Think Tank? Yeah, that's right! Hey, sorry about the republican bashing, even though I meant it. Kisses! 


	18. Letting Go

Disclaimer: Slowly, I crack open the bedroom door. All of the blinds are closed, defying the daylight trying to pour through. A lump is on the bed, the sheets wrapped around the form like a coccon. Smiling, I walk over, and raise the blinds. As soon as the light touches the form, it tries to roll away. "Anyanka-Faith," I say to the girl, who refuses to get up, "You can't do this. Yeah, I shut the world out when I realized that I didn't own Joss Whedon's 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' or Bonnie Lett's 'Where the Heart Is', but that can only last for a while. You will never be able to own Adam Brody, or his alter-ego Seth Cohan, and you never will. And you probably don't want to hear 'tomorrow's another day', but I promise you you'll see the sun again. And you're asking me why pain's the only way to happiness, but I promise you you'll see the sun again."  
  
Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language.  
  
Author's Notes: Sorry for the brief hiatus. I would have updated last week, but Dead Week took over. You'd think that they wouldn't assign any homework over that time, but no! So, I've been a bad person. No promises, but I will try to update before I go home on Friday, seeing how next week will be spent lying out in the sun, and writing Comedia a screenplay. She is such a bitch. Anyway, hope you like this chapter. It takes place just after the last one with Angel, so almost three years have past, and Aurora's not a baby anymore.  
  
PS: Death to the WB for canceling Angel. This disclaimer idea came from my love of Dido's new CD, "Life For Rent", and the song "See the Sun". The whole Adam Brody/Seth Cohan really is how my sister acts. Sometimes, I don't understand her. ____________________________________________________________________________  
  
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Chapter Eighteen- Letting Go  
  
Humming along to the radio, Joyce shut the refrigerator door, a bag of carrots, one serving pack of chocolate pudding, and grape jelly. Placing the items on the kitchen counter, she removed two of the carrots from the bag, and took them over to the sink, where she proceeded to clean them.  
  
The song ended, and the radio reporter used the break to give the highlights of the day's news and the weather, which was expected to be sunny and hot. If it weren't for the fact that the sun was starting to come up a little later, you wouldn't have known that it was mid-September.  
  
Another song started to play, and Joyce smiled when she recognized it. Buffy always mocked her choice in music, but Joyce had a soft spot for modern country. Especially the new song this station was going crazy over, "A Place Called Home" by country newbie Liam Sloane.  
  
The carrots were clean, and she began chopping them up into small sticks, then placed the sticks in a plastic bag. She was about to put the bag into the nearby Toy Story lunchbox, but something happened. Her head suddenly felt like it was a helium balloon, tied on only by a string, and her feet threatened to give way. Wavering, she leaned over the counter for support. This wasn't the first time it had happened. In fact, she normally would have ignored it. But this was the third one this summer. Maybe . . .  
  
It passed just as she heard the stomping from above her. Relieved that the episode was over, she pushed it out of her mind as the stomping began moving from above her to the stairs, where it scurried down and became louder when it reached the hardwood of the ground floor.  
  
The little tornado that was three-year-old Aurora Summers burst into the kitchen. Wearing a blue sundress emblazoned with kitties, her short brown hair in pigtails, she acted as if she wanted to put her feet through the floor, stomping and singing at the top of her lungs.  
  
"I like big butts and I cannot LIE! You offer broffers can't deNIE! When a," she paused, smiling her big toothed grin, "All dressed, Gramma!"  
  
Joyce tried hard not to growl. She was going to kill Xander Harris for teaching her precious girl that song.  
  
"Please don't stamp your feet, Rory," she muttered instead, while opening a container of peanut butter.  
  
Aurora seated herself at the kitchen table, in her pink booster seat, and worked on finishing the soggy bowl of Froot Loops she'd ignored at breakfast half an hour ago.  
  
"I sing this song!" Aurora proclaimed, recognizing the song on the radio in between bites.  
  
That got Joyce smiling again at her honorary granddaughter. "Can you sing it for me?" she asked.  
  
Nodding, Aurora began to sing along, although her version of singing bordered on screaming.  
  
Once again, there was stomping from upstairs.  
  
"Aurora Rose Summers! Did you put your sandals on like I told you?" Buffy yelled, clearly not asking this for the first time.  
  
Aurora giggled, and began to swing her bare feet back and forth.  
  
Buffy stormed into the kitchen, putting her hair up in a clip as she came in, holding a pair of tiny salt-water sandals in her free hand.  
  
"I don't like it when you don't listen to me," she scolded, pulling Aurora's chair from the table so she could put them on.  
  
"Sorry Momma," Aurora sighed, although her mouth was full of cereal.  
  
Once she was done, Buffy joined Joyce at the counter to help finish making Aurora's lunch.  
  
Filling the Toy Story thermos with apple juice, Buffy winced when she heard the song.  
  
"God, how can you listen to this . . ." she paused, looking over at her daughter, "S-H-I-T?" she amended.  
  
Joyce rolled her eyes. "I happen to like this 'S-H-I-T', and you don't have to listen to it."  
  
Buffy relaxed when the song ended.  
  
"I don't know what it is, but GOD! I hate that voice! It's so grating!"  
  
"Again, don't listen to it," Joyce teased.  
  
"I like too," Aurora added, now standing on top of her booster seat, and swinging her little butt back and forth to the new song on the radio. "Guess what, Gramma?"  
  
"What, Rory?"  
  
She began beaming. "I go to school today!"  
  
Laughing, Joyce watched Buffy's face suddenly pale.  
  
"Yes, you do, honey. Such a big girl!" Joyce cooed. She then leaned over to Buffy and whispered in her ear, "You're going to be fine."  
  
Buffy groaned. "Then why do I feel like I'm going to fall apart?" she whispered.  
  
Hugging the young woman, Joyce gave her a kiss on the forehead. Buffy smiled gratefully, although something crossed her face when she looked back at Joyce.  
  
"You OK?" Buffy inquired.  
  
"What? Oh, yes. Just didn't get enough sleep last night," Joyce lied. "Time for school." Changing the subject, she handed the lunchbox to the blonde.  
  
"Yeah, time for school."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Evergreen Preschool was one of those nauseating, colorful institutions parents don't mind leaving their kids in, a sickly testimonial to the characters of Sesame Street and primary geometry. All around, little kids were tearing across the length of the building, while their parents were trying to calm them down. One child, however, was not participating in the chaos.  
  
Meredith Harris had decided that she would carry the terrible twos all the way over her third birthday. She really was excited for school, but the fact that her parents were leaving her with utter strangers forced the child to sit against one of the walls, arms folded, mouth set in a firm pout.  
  
Crouching down beside her, Xander was trying to explain the reasons why school was a good thing. But she was having none of it, ignoring the coaxing, pleading, and occasional mild threats coming from her dad.  
  
Cordelia, on the other hand, was not paying attention to her brat of a daughter. She knew which side of the family this behavior came from, and was feeling too embarrassed to scold. Also, she was on the verge of tears, not wanting to let her baby girl grow up so quickly. Instead, she was focusing on the little brunet boy who was attempting to head butt a child twice his size.  
  
"Holden Chase Harris! If you aren't holding my hand in five seconds, I'll . . ." She trailed off when the boy succeeded in ramming the older boy with his forehead. He was now running away, screaming with delight while the other child chased him.  
  
Holden was that little surprise the Harris' discovered five months after Meredith was born. Where his sister was pouty and moody (just like his mother), Holden took after the Harris side, except for the excessive alcoholism.  
  
If anything, the marriage of Alexander Harris and Cordelia Chase had been a scandal. Most people couldn't understand why Sunnydale's most distinguished girl would choose the whitest trash in the world as her husband.  
  
Sometimes, Cordelia herself would wonder how it came to be. She had known Xander since grade school, although their relationship had been anything but friendly. A snobby bitch since birth, she clung to the like-minded and ignored or tormented the lower beings.  
  
Then came high school. Suddenly, scruffy Xander became cute Xander, and Cordelia unexpectedly found herself looking forward to seeing him at school, even though the only thing they did was fight. The fighting lead to heated make-out sessions in the closet, and little by little, Cordelia became a part of Xander's life. In the beginning, his friends were a little weirded out that she was hanging out with them, but grew to love (or at first, tolerate) her.  
  
At least she had Xander when her life fell apart. Her father was arrested her senior year for income tax evasion, and she and her mother lost everything. Those who still hung out with her even though she had befriended the school freaks abandoned her. The option of college was gone, and she had to take two part time jobs, one at the Magic Box and Joyce's gallery, to pay for her prom dress.  
  
After graduation, Xander asked Cordelia if she wanted to live with him. He wasn't planning on going to college, and decided to instead become a police officer. They lived, at first, in a dinky apartment near the freeway, yet she had never been happier. Three years later, they were married in a private ceremony attended by their true family. Xander didn't even bother inviting his side, while Cordelia's mother and new stepfather (her father's ex-business partner) boycotted.  
  
Cordelia was finally content. She had an adoring husband, a beautiful home, and two great kids . . .  
  
'Well,' she corrected herself, patting her swollen belly, 'Meredith and Holden aren't going to be the only Harris children anymore.'  
  
Cordelia had found out months earlier that she was expecting . . . again. In a way, she was happy, but she was starting to get annoyed by these unexpected pregnancies.  
  
Three familiar faces suddenly entered the chaotic preschool room. Buffy's eyes were widening when she took in the tiny, hyper bodies dashing from one end of the room to the other. Aurora had pulled herself out of her mother's grasp immediately, and was intent on kicking every boy she saw. The only adult actually laughing at the scene was Spike, who had come in with Buffy to fill out some release forms, giving him permission to pick up Aurora if she became sick one day.  
  
The two scanned the room, and spotted the Harris's instantly.  
  
"How you doing?" Buffy asked the parents once she made it over, giving both a hug.  
  
"Cordy's cried twice today, so probably not good," Xander informed, chuckling when his wife hit him.  
  
She crossed her arms, a mirror image of her pouting daughter. "It's just the hormones," she justified, giving Xander an evil look while he and Spike started talking.  
  
Buffy laughed. "Don't worry," she informed Cordelia, "I'm on the verge of total meltdown."  
  
"All stocked up on chocolate?" Cordelia asked.  
  
"Duh."  
  
Laughing, Cordelia turned her attention to Spike, who was leaning against the wall and staring at the sea of tiny people.  
  
"Hey, Spike," Cordelia began, "You looking for a new girlfriend? Some toddler who will only turn you into a pathetic shell of a loser?"  
  
Spike glared at her, then his face melted into one of mock-shock. "Oh my God," he proclaimed, "A pregnant cheerleader! Haven't seen one of 'em since high school! Now, how many kids is it for you and the Whelp? Ten? Nineteen?"  
  
Before Cordelia could think up a clever retort, the teachers began herding the students into the instructional area. Promising a trip to the toy store after school, Xander finally made Meredith get up and follow her classmates. Most of the mothers, and some of the fathers, were now in tears.  
  
Holden materialized from nowhere. He had tried to go home with some other family, but had been sent back to his own parents.  
  
"Mama? Candy," he demanded once he made it back.  
  
Rolling her eyes, Cordelia picked up the boy and tossed him in the air, catching him quickly.  
  
"Good idea, Buddy-boy."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Saying goodbye to the Harris brood, Spike and Buffy made their way to their cars. He had originally thought that picking up Aurora after school would be an easy task, but that was before he realized it meant tons of paperwork, and a background check for the non-family.  
  
The preschool ran from ten to two, Monday through Friday, meaning that there would be no way for Buffy to pick her daughter up because of her noon to six shift at the Wal-Mart, or for Joyce or Tara to watch her. Spike, before anyone else, had volunteered to play babysitter. He'd pick Aurora up after school, and watch her at the library until Buffy got off work at six. The only thing he didn't like about the deal was the pay: he didn't want it, and Buffy wouldn't agree to it unless he accepted.  
  
This wasn't going to be anything new to Spike. He had watched Aurora all summer long, and during the time created a plan to "enrich" her mind. Every day, they would read. Mostly fairy tales, which wouldn't get her confused, although he'd occasionally throw in a piece from Shakespeare or Voltaire. The reading list he'd created was now 200 titles long, and he planned on getting her to finish it by the end of grade school. The time they'd spend together after school would definitely accomplish this.  
  
Glancing over at Buffy, he did not question her red-rimmed eyes. He was also upset that his little Bit, as he called her, was growing up. But, he would never let anyone see him cry.  
  
They stopped in front of Buffy's car, the yellow Honda, and took a seat on the hood, neither one wanting to leave Aurora so alone.  
  
"Gonna be alright, luv?" he asked.  
  
Buffy shook her head. He hadn't seen her this broken up since the night Aurora went missing.  
  
"I just keep hoping I'll go home, and she'll be in her old crib, wearing one of those stupid one-sie pajamas she loved. But, I know she's here, and she's going to have such a great time, and I'm not going to be a big part of this new life." Her voice began to waver, the tears threatening to fall.  
  
"Pet . . ."  
  
"Spike, I just want her to stay little forever," Buffy explained, finally breaking down.  
  
The two sat on the Honda hood for the rest of the morning.  
  
*  
  
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Comedia- So much love from such a small person. Lemme ask you, when you dine out in Munchkin land, do you get the total bitch rate? And, look who's talking about writing! The only time people read your stuff is when teachers are trying to dissuade their students from writing so horribly. Yeah, I can bring it! C'mon, I'll kick your ghetto booty! Love much! And have many wonderful babies with Diamond Dave.  
  
Chrestomanci- I don't hate you because you are a republican. That's just the icing on top of the big "I Hate You" cake. Angel's so stupid, but at least he didn't bug Buffy for that long on the show. Stupid bastard. Well, when I go back to my homeland, you shall be coming with me, and I will make you serve at my feet, wearing Bashful's ill-fitting poser clothes. Love ya!  
  
Imzadi- Well, it might not be an actual . . . I'm not going to get into it. I'm still developing the idea. But just wait. Oh, and I don't hate republicans. I just hate Chrestomanci because she's a bitch. You go ahead and vote however you want. I'm not stopping you, until I become supreme dictator of the world. And, Angel really singing = ick! But, just pretend that he has a really nice voice, like Harry Connick Jr.  
  
Celestria16- Yeah, it might be a nice thing that Angel's famous, but just think about how big his ego's going to get. Uh huh.  
  
Psychovampgurl- My friend didn't fall in luv. No, they met an untimely end after trying to battle the Slayer. Ha ha ha, I have no life. I hate school so much. Right now, I should probably be studying for my astronomy final, but I don't want to. No one can make me. Let's go on a protest: NO MORE SCHOOL!  
  
FirstAidKid- Thanks for the compliment. The trick for speaking like Glory is to just let the inner bitch out, and let her say whatever she wants. It wasn't that hard, seeing how I'm a bitch 24-7.  
  
You need a life- God, I'm giving up on asking you to sign in. It's not worth it. But the peanut butter . . . mmmmmm. You have good ideas. Be good, and don't make mom and dad hate you more.  
  
Kei Ayame- I love it when I find stories that have a lot of chapters, and I read it all in one sitting. But, doesn't it suck when it takes the people two weeks to write a frickin' new chapter. Grr! So, I'll try my hardest not to do that. 


	19. Still

Disclaimer: I don't own Billie Letts' "Where the Heart Is", or Joss Whedon's "Buffy the Vampire Slayer. What, I can't always have a funny disclaimer, can I? Am I just here as a clown for your amusement? Let's just see who's the clown when you're wearing the funny nose and multicolored wig! Yeah, Bozo, what the fuck are you going to do then?  
  
Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language.  
  
Author's Notes: Kept my promise! Kudos to myself. Just a little note to all you readers who think some of the reviewers are a little less than tactful: Most likely, they are my friends. You see, in normal friendships, there is a positive interaction of encouragement and praise. My friends, on the other hand, only wish for me to die a horrible death so they can steal my Buffy DVDs (which they won't!). Anyway, I won't be updating next week. I'll be home. But, I will try to post a new chapter some time before April. Much love, and have a good spring break to all of you who have it now.  
  
PS: Death to the WB for canceling Angel. This chapter is just a series of "meaningless" vignettes (notice how I put meaningless in quotation marks? That must mean something . . .) It's a lead in to the next chapter I will post, which isn't going to be hugs and puppies. ____________________________________________________________________________  
  
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Chapter Nineteen- Still  
  
The thin paper gown did nothing to protect Joyce's skin as she sat in the bare, cold exam room at Sunnydale General Hospital. She felt so naked and vulnerable, which is not exactly the way she wanted to feel at the moment. Trying to concentrate, she began to steal herself up, preparing for whatever the doctor had to say.  
  
Finally, the metal door clicked open, and Doctor Hobsen casually strolled in. The moment he sat on the stool next to Joyce, she knew that whatever he had to say wouldn't be good. Although he was calm on the surface, his eyes betrayed everything.  
  
"So, Joyce," he began, his voice wavering ever so slightly, "I've just reviewed your test results . . ."  
  
The uncomfortable silence was too much to bare, and Joyce couldn't let the inevitable hang in the air.  
  
"What did they say, Lou?"  
  
Rarely had the doctor been referred to by his first name when talking to a patient. But, this was Joyce. He had known her for years. He should be able to talk frankly with her.  
  
Sighing, he lifted his hand up, and began massaging his sinus area.  
  
"They're positive."  
  
Her first reaction wasn't shock. No, she had been expecting it. She was actually surprised to feel relieved. Finally, they knew what was the matter with her.  
  
"I can have you admitted this evening," he continued, as he started re- examining her test results. "By Friday, you can be in the operating room-"  
  
"No."  
  
Doctor Hobsen shot his head up. He stared at Joyce, her arms firmly crossed at her chest, her jaw set in a defiant frown.  
  
"I don't think this is wise . . ."  
  
"I'm not doing it, Lou," she interrupted once more, "Not this close to Christmas. I need to be alert and ready, because I know Buffy will end up setting some part of the dinner on fire, Xander's going to teach my granddaughter another awful song or story, and Spike and Giles are going to have their post-dinner fight over transcendentalism or the correct way to prepare yams."  
  
"This isn't something you can take lightly, Joyce. You're body . . ."  
  
"MY BODY will still be here after New Years. Then, you can slice me, dice me, put me on a silver platter and call me supper. After New Years, and not a moment sooner."  
  
Once more sighing, he gave up, knowing there was no other way to convince her.  
  
"Fine. You can set the time up with the receptionist when we are done." He took a pad of prescription referrals, and scribbled out three notes. "In the time being, I'd like for you to take these medications. One pain reliever, one for the dizziness. Take both of them three times a day. The third is more of a 'just-in-case'. Only take it when the symptoms increase."  
  
Meeting his eyes, Joyce nodded, then got up off the table and walked around to the partition in the back of the room, and began changing into her normal clothes.  
  
"I don't have to remind you, Joyce, of what I told you last time," the doctor commented while Joyce was changing.  
  
She faltered, her beige skirt almost falling out of her hands.  
  
"You informed me that . . ." Closing her eyes, she tried to push out all of the unhelpful negative thoughts away. "You informed me that, if I were to relapse, there would be a good chance that I wouldn't recover."  
  
"Just thought I'd mention this, in case you want to talk to your family," Doctor Hobsen replied, before he left the room.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"I don't want a broffer!" Meredith complained, her tiny feet swinging underneath her as she gripped the chains holding her swing.  
  
"Maybe . . . maybe you get a sister," Aurora replied from the swing next to her.  
  
Considering this, Meredith attempted to move the swing back and forth. So far, the two friends had not figured out the exact technique required to swing, so they settled for rocking sideways.  
  
Absently, Aurora gazed over at her mommy and Meredith's mommy, both sitting at a nearby bench and talking. Preschool had been let out for winter break, and today they could go to the park because Mommy didn't have to work.  
  
The little girl had been fascinated with Meredith's mommy's tummy, which, she was told, held Meredith's new brother or sister. If her mommy had a tummy like that, then she would get a little baby to play with.  
  
"I want a broffer," Aurora sighed.  
  
Meredith had managed to get a hold of one of the swing supports, and was trying very hard to hang on.  
  
"You can't," she replied matter-of-factly.  
  
"Yeah huh! I can!"  
  
"Nuh huh, you don't have a daddy."  
  
This caught Aurora off guard. "So?"  
  
Rolling her eyes, Meredith let go of the swing support and went flying wildly about.  
  
"The daddies help the mommies. You can't have a baby wiffout the daddies," the three-year-old reasoned.  
  
Jumping off the swing seat, Aurora began to chew on her lower lip.  
  
"So," she considered, "I have a daddy? Then I have a broffer?"  
  
"Yep," Meredith said, before falling to the ground. She didn't cry, but simply sat up and started brushing the bark dust from off her jeans.  
  
"Meredith," Aurora asked hesitantly, "Where do daddies come from?"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Most of the town was quiet as Willow's green SUV passed slowly through the streets. It was nearing one in the morning, and the little community had gone to bed hours ago.  
  
The driver was concentrating intently on the road. Not because she needed to. It was her passenger, sitting right next to her that was causing her such uneasiness.  
  
They were driving home from Cordelia's baby shower; one the pregnant woman had themed 'My last.' But the humor and liveliness of the night had now vanished from the two, who sat in the uncomfortable silence and acknowledged neither.  
  
Willow knew something was up with Oz. He was gone more and more lately. She had thought it had something to do with his band touring and things like that. It was only that he had just come back after being gone for two weeks. He hadn't told her ahead of time, and hadn't called her once.  
  
Oz had never been a chatty guy. His stoic-ness had been one of the reasons that made the two of them such compatible partners long ago. This was a new silence, and not a very friendly one at that. In the past, Oz had managed to make small talk with her friends, but he had spent the entire night sitting in the corner, nursing a beer.  
  
Everyone else could tell something was up at the party. Willow managed to avoid all talk of relationships when hanging out with her friends, but they saw close up this evening how they were slowly unraveling.  
  
'I wonder how long we have,' Willow thought to herself, watching him through the corner of her eye as she turned down the street.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Sitting on her window seat, her head leaning against the glass, Drusilla stared up at the moon, noting all the little shadows and imperfections that marred its glowing surface. Long ago, when she was little, she wished that she would wake up one night and find the moon transformed into a perfect, silvery sphere, the way the sun looked.  
  
Drusilla took comfort in the moon's rays. Most of the time, the medications the doctors gave her made her sleep during the day, meaning she would be wide-awake at night. No one else in the house knew, because she was always as quiet as a mouse. The moon became her sun, her source of light in the dark evenings.  
  
She knew she didn't have very much time. Her room was starting to cave in on her, and no matter how many pills the doctors gave her, the pixies would come back to get her. The beautiful room, with the Victorian-style post bed, dresser, and wardrobe, had dark corners. And soon, they would consume everything.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Rupert." She paused, and took a cleansing breath before continuing. "I'm dying."  
  
He had just taken a sip of his morning tea, which unexpectedly sprayed out of his mouth and all over the paper.  
  
"PARDON ME?" he yelled while wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his bathrobe. *Very un-Rupert like,* she mentally chided.  
  
Sighing, Anya began playing with the edges of her toast, now turning cold.  
  
"I'm dying. Every day I'm getting closer and closer to my death, and I have yet to obtain a husband or produce children. The successful business has already been taken care of, as have the oodles of money, and although the library is not the ideal environment, it makes a suitable home. I wish to have the other things in order to complete my life."  
  
Halfway through her explanation, the glasses had come off for the routine polishing. When she had finished, he pulled her to him and began to massage her back.  
  
"You're not dying," he whispered. "You and I have a lot of silly years ahead of us. Besides, I thought you said you never wanted to get married."  
  
She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.  
  
"I know. But, that was a long time ago. You had to take care of Drusilla and William, so I decided to step back and let you deal. But, now it has been a while, and I've been patient for a very long time." Closing her eyes, she whispered the last part. "I just don't want to lose everything the way Fredrick and Amelia did."  
  
"Why don't you want to end up like my brother and sister-in-law?" he asked, curious.  
  
"Well, they had obtained everything: the money, home, Will and Dru. Then, in one night, they lost it all."  
  
"Can I promise you something?"  
  
"What?"  
  
He smiled. "I promise I'll try my best to stay here, and make an honest woman out of you."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Leaning against the front of the old, dusty green couch he had bought at a Goodwill, Xander took a final swig of beer. He loved his game room. Most middle-class-married men had offices, but he had a game room. Even if it was a section of the basement with beat up furniture, an old TV, and a mini- fridge, it was all his, a sanctuary from his pregnant wife and squabbling children on his days off.  
  
"Want another one?" he asked his video game partner, Spike, who was now on the third level of the new "Pimpmaster 6".  
  
Not tearing his eyes away from the screen, Spike blindly grabbed his empty bottle and handed it to Xander with his free hand.  
  
Trying to move as little as possible, Xander leaned over, grabbed two cold beer bottles from his mini fridge while tossing the used ones on the couch.  
  
"God, I love being an American. Your reward for protecting the boring streets of Sunnyhell is violent video games and cheep booze," he toasted.  
  
Spike didn't answer, his concentration on the game.  
  
Xander began absently playing with the beer bottle label he had just torn off.  
  
"Bleach-boy, gotta ask you a question. How long have you been in love with Buffy?"  
  
Again, Spike was silent, but Xander got his answer from his friend's sudden change in posture, how he sort of caved in on himself.  
  
Shrugging his shoulders, Xander brought the bottle to his lips.  
  
"Well, just do something about it. You're starting to act kinda like a stalker." He gulped some of the amber liquid down. "Actually," he amended, "That's not a surprise, seeing how it's you."  
  
When the game controller came flying at his head, Xander only laughed.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Soft music was playing in the sound system of Tara's greenhouse. Most of the time, it was a random oldies station filtering though the air, something most of the customers would like. But, the greenhouse had closed only a few minutes ago, and it was now her time.  
  
Humming absently along to one of Jewel's albums, she puttered through the rows of flowers and ferns, spraying each plant with her own mixture of natural fertilizers and water.  
  
She tried to ignore the nagging feeling in the back of her head, the one that had been warning her for weeks. Always an intuitive person, Tara knew to trust her feelings. This time, she didn't want to trust these ones.  
  
Something was going to happen.  
  
It had been hanging in the air. It was the proverbial calm before the storm. Bad times were coming, and if the past had taught her anything, she knew that it always came in threes.  
  
If she had any idea to whom it would happen to, she'd intervene. That wasn't the way it worked, she understood that well. All she could do is be prepared, and hope for miracles.  
  
There was also another thought dancing around in her head. But, this one had been there for years. It concerned her feelings for someone very close to her. Something she could never act on.  
  
Again, Tara found herself completely helpless against fate.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"I swear to fucking GOD! If you EVER TOUCH ME AGAIN, I WILL KILL YOU!"  
  
"Cordy, babe, please just calm down." Xander was sweating underneath the paper garb the doctors had forced him to put on. He looked like a blue paper sack.  
  
"DON'T. YOU. TELL. ME. TO. FUCKING. CALM. DOWN."  
  
She, on the other hand, looked like that girl from "The Exorcist", flailing about in the delivery room bed, talking in tongues.  
  
He gulped, wishing she hadn't insisted on natural childbirth, seeing how she was at the moment breaking the index and middle finger of his right hand. At least she was ready to give birth after only a few hours of labor, even though it now meant that Christmas would have to be postponed until after they got home.  
  
The doctor was crouched between her open legs, his arms out as he instructed Cordelia to push one more time.  
  
This was it. Xander was about to become a father.  
  
Again.  
  
Smiling, the doctor sat up, and picked up a squalling, wrinkled, tiny thing that was wailing like its mother.  
  
"It's a girl!" The doctor announced, even though both the parents had known months earlier. They were tired of waiting in anticipation, and not being able to buy the proper clothes until after the birth.  
  
Wrapped in a soft blanket, the infant was placed on her mother's chest, her father holding the both of them.  
  
This was the one perfect moment Xander couldn't get enough of. The months of midnight food runs, hormones, and swollen ankles were all made up in the few precious moments he got to stare at the tiny thing he helped create.  
  
Kissing his wife on her clammy forehead, Xander strolled out the doors of the room and headed to the waiting area. A mob of people was waiting for him to hear when Sydney Chase Harris was born. Hell, she was the reason they were all hanging around, watching crappy TV and drinking stale coffee, instead of enjoying Christmas Eve like earlier.  
  
The only blood relatives he knew were waiting for him were his own children, being watched after by his very good friends. Xander couldn't care less. If his own family wouldn't give a damn, he had a mixed bag of people waiting in line. And that's perfectly acceptable.  
  
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Chrestomanci- Just two words for you: Starfence sucks.  
  
Psychovampgurl- Nope, there isn't going to be any Spuffiness soon, but I hope I'm putting enough sparkage in to make it believable. Oh, yeah, and the Angel confrontation isn't going to be as big as you think, but it is meaningful in my mind. Well, I'm done with finals (thank the pestilent gods), so I've got a nice long Spring Break ahead of me. Then, back to more school. Damn, now I'm depressed. Yeah, I say a big protest, with streamers and clowns! Have fun w/ your man!  
  
FirstAidKid- Oh yeah, Spike the Babysitter! Very squee-worthy. As are little kid shoes, which are adorable enough to eat. Love little kids so much! Except when they start talking.  
  
Comedia- We represent the Lollipop Guild, the Lollipop Guild, the Lo- Oh, sorry. Yeah, you talk a big game. Be lucky you're in New York, because I feel the sudden urge to whoop ass!  
  
Tobert- Well, you got your wish, but Joyce is a stubborn woman. Remember, out of all the bad comes some good.  
  
Mita427- Whatever! Whatever! I do what I want! *Ghetto finger snap* Not like you gonna stop me, are you, bi-atch? I let Joyce do whatever I please, because I am the mother-fucking puppetmaster here! You wanna change it? Come make me, because I will through your ass onto the ground and make mother-fucking peanut butter out of it! Thanks, and love you too! 


	20. Goodbye, My Friend

Disclaimer: I don't own Billie Letts' "Where the Heart Is", or Joss Whedon's "Buffy the Vampire Slayer. What, I can't always have a funny disclaimer, can I? Am I just here as a clown for your amusement? Let's just see who's the clown when you're wearing the funny nose and multicolored wig! Yeah, Bozo, what the fuck are you going to do then?  
  
Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language.  
  
Author's Notes: Hey people, sorry for the late update. Spring term just started, and I was a little frazzled, but now I feel better. Hope you enjoy this fairly depressing chapter. WARNING: CHARACTER DEATH!!!!!!!!!!  
  
PS: Death to the WB for canceling Angel. I "borrowed" some of the dialogue here from BTVS's "The Body". Very good, and very sad episode. ____________________________________________________________________________  
  
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Chapter Twenty- Goodbye, My Friend  
  
It had taken Buffy a few weeks to decide if she hated her new boss, or not, but after this day, one week after New Year's, she had finally reached her conclusion. Nancy, that poofy-haired, bitchy, smart-assed, goddamned fucking mean whore was evil, and needed to die.  
  
Pounding the dashboard a few times for anger relief, Buffy turned onto Hadley. The only reconsiliation she had was she was almost home. Also, a big plus, Aurora was having a slumber party with Meredith at the Harris house, so it was going to be a margarita night with Joyce. It was really good to be 21.  
  
Buffy was still a little uneasy about Aurora making lives at the Harris home uncomfortable. Cordelia and Sydney had gone home a few days after New Year, and the baby was still adjusting. Knowing how loud Rory and Meredith got when they were playing, and how Holden loved to torment them, it might turn out to be a bad thing. But Xander, who had organized the sleepover and picked up the girls after school, said it was necessary to insure his older daughter and son would keep their mom alone for the day.  
  
She turned onto Revello, and was soon parking her Honda in the driveway. Joyce was already home, her Jeep in its usual spot in the garage.  
  
Buffy jumped out of the car with her purse, slammed shut the car door, and ran up the front steps. She didn't need her keys because Joyce always had the front door unlocked when she was home, something Buffy found very trusting.  
  
Setting her purse down in the entryway, Buffy called out into the space.  
  
"Hey Joyce, you are NOT going to believe what Nancy made me do today!"  
  
There was no answer, so Joyce had to be in the shower. Shrugging her shoulders, Buffy started making her way up the stairs to change out of her work clothes.  
  
Halfway up, she caught something out of the corner of her eye in the living room. She slowly turned.  
  
Joyce was lying on the couch for a nap.  
  
Buffy chuckled to herself. Joyce had simply collapsed on the sofa, not bothering to change out of her white blouse, green skirt, and flat shoes.  
  
"Joyce," Buffy softly called, knowing how much the older woman hated to nap in the daytime.  
  
She walked back down the stairs, ready to gossip with her friend.  
  
But she hadn't moved, even though her eyes were open . . . why hadn't Buffy noticed that?  
  
A little quicker, Buffy came over to Joyce. Something was wrong.  
  
"Joyce? Joyce, Joyce Joyce? JOYCE?" Buffy was shaking her, trying to snap her out of it. Like a rag doll, Joyce's head bounced with every shake. The muscles in her body were limp.  
  
Buffy stepped back, then ran over to the portable phone on the desk in the living room. She almost mis-dialed 9-1-1.  
  
"911 Emergency?" The operator was a woman, but she sounded cold, and far away.  
  
She was shaking now. "Hello? Um . . . my friend is . . . something's wrong with Joyce. She's not moving."  
  
"All right, I'm sending paramedics to your house. Where is it?"  
  
For a second, Buffy couldn't remember. "Um . . . 1630 Revello drive."  
  
"Is she breathing?"  
  
"No," she replied, her voice thin and childlike.  
  
"Did you see the accident?"  
  
"No, I just got home."  
  
"Do you know how to perform CPR?"  
  
Buffy shook her head, as if the operator could see this. Buffy had never learned. No one had ever taken the time to show her.  
  
"All right," began the operator, "I'm going to need you to-"  
  
Following her instructions, Buffy cradled the phone with her shoulder and knelt down beside the couch, adjusting Joyce down. Joyce's skin was like ice.  
  
Her hand shot back up to the phone. "She's cold," Buffy informed the operator.  
  
"The body?"  
  
"No, Joyce! Sh-should I make her warm again?" she asked.  
  
There was a pause on the other line. Something wasn't good.  
  
"You're going to need to wait for the paramedics," the operator instructed slowly.  
  
Slowly pulling the phone away from her ear and bringing it down to her side, Buffy glanced down at Joyce. Her lively eyes were blank, staring off into the distance.  
  
"Are you there?" Buffy could hear the operator's voice in the phone.  
  
This operator definitely wasn't going to help. She needed someone who could.  
  
Turning the phone, she brought it back up to her ear.  
  
"I need to make a phone call," Buffy explained emotionlessly, before hitting the talk button and cutting off whatever the operator was going to say.  
  
The weight of the phone felt alien to her. Buffy struggled to remember the phone number as she dialed it in, very slowly, before putting to her ear.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Sunnydale Library," Spike automatically greeted, leaning against the library main desk as he spoke into the receiver. He glanced down at the Caller ID box in the corner of the phone, and recognized the number. "Whaddya want, luv?" he asked, knowing it was either Joyce or Buffy.  
  
There wasn't a reply, so Spike tried again. "You there?"  
  
Giles came out of the stacks, pushing his stupid cart with him.  
  
"Who is it?" Giles asked his nephew. Spike shrugged, and gave Giles the phone.  
  
"Hello?" Giles spoke into the receiver. His face turned grim as the person on the other line began talking. "Buffy?"  
  
So it was Buffy. *What the hell is going on?* Spike wondered.  
  
Giles suddenly took the phone away, staring at it.  
  
"We have to go to Joyce and Buffy's," Giles explained, growing more worried by the second.  
  
"What is it?" Spike asked, knowing he felt the way his uncle looked.  
  
"I have no idea."  
  
Both ran out of the library, not bothering to lock the door and sprinted to the nearest car. Giles jumped into the driver seat before Spike could protest, so he climbed into the passenger side.  
  
Although Giles was normally a careful driver, he was gunning down the streets of Sunnydale almost thirty miles about the speed limit.  
  
They reached the house within a minute. Both Buffy and Joyce's cars were in the driveway, and the front door was wide open.  
  
As soon as they got into the house, Spike ran upstairs while Giles searched the ground floor.  
  
The rooms were empty as Spike pushed open every door. So, whatever was wrong had to be downstairs.  
  
He ran down the stairs, and was automatically relieved when he saw Buffy standing in the entry way, staring into the living room. But the feeling suddenly came back when he noticed that she was yelling at something in the living room.  
  
"Buffy?" he began as he approached her, but was cut off when Buffy screamed:  
  
"WE'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO MOVE THE BODY!"  
  
He saw it. Joyce was on the living room floor, spread out like someone had thrown a rag doll to the floor. Giles had been hovering over her, but was now staring at Buffy, his eyes wide.  
  
Giles ran over, and pulled Buffy roughly into a hug, as if to shield her eyes. Spike, however, stood apart from the two, blankly taking in the corpse of Joyce, the woman who had treated him like a son from the moment they met.  
  
It took everything in him not to cry.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Midnight was approaching when Buffy unlocked the front door. She crossed the threshold, and held the door open so Spike could follow. Aurora, fast asleep and wearing the Piglet pajamas Buffy had changed her into earlier, was cradled in his arms.  
  
The funeral had been fine. Throughout her life, Joyce had made a lot of friends, and many of them packed into the church to say goodbye. There had been no official gathering afterwards because Joyce always said they were as depressing as potluck dinners. Most of them ended up gathering at the library afterwards, eating the food Anya had prepared earlier, and comforting one another.  
  
Buffy turned on the hall lights, then removed her coat. She hadn't bothered changing out the clothes she had worn to the funeral, which was just a simple black dress she had found tucked away. Spike still wore his suit, although his tie had disappeared earlier in the day. Without a word, he carried Rory up the stairs to put her to bed.  
  
Absently, Buffy went through the house, turning on lights. She wasn't ready for bed.  
  
How could Joyce be dead? Why hadn't she told anyone about her tumor?  
  
When the doctor at the hospital explained she had died from symptoms relating to her brain cancer remission, Buffy listened in shock. Not once in the three years they lived together had Joyce ever mentioned cancer.  
  
Not one else knew, at least about the remission. A while back, they explained, Joyce learned she had a tumor. It was successfully removed, and she had recovered quickly, but it still was a bad time in her life. The treatments she had received rendered her unable to have children, and that wasn't acceptable to Hank, her former husband, who left her a year later. Talking about that time, in her eyes, victimized her, and she wasn't about to have anyone's pity.  
  
The doctor had gone on later to say that she was scheduled to go in just a few days later for treatment. She had put off treatment in order not to ruin the holidays. She had put it off for her family.  
  
Tears began to form in her eyes, not a rare occurrence after these hectic days. The wonderful woman who had taken the two strangers in without question, who sacrificed herself for others, who treated Aurora like a granddaughter . . . who treated her like a daughter, was gone, and Buffy wasn't give the chance to say goodbye.  
  
Taking a loaf of bread out of the cupboard, Buffy wiped her tears away and went about making a sort of dinner. She hadn't felt like eating all day, and was now starving.  
  
Joining her a few minutes later, Spike headed towards the fridge.  
  
"Bit's in bed," he commented, taking out a jar of mustard, and some olives.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
He helped her assemble a meal of bologna sandwiches, olives, leftover pizza, pudding packs, bananas, gummi bears, and a few hard alcohol drinks.  
  
For a while, they stayed in the living room, watching late night infomercials and eating. At some point, Spike had dozed off; feet propped up on the table as he softly snored.  
  
Buffy had given up trying to pay attention to the TV, and decided to watch him. With his hair all curly and mussed up, his mouth hanging opened, he looked so adorable. Usually, he was all "grrrr" and "sod off", but every once in a while, when no one else was around to comment, he'd drop the façade and be the sweet guy he hid inside. She would see it whenever he tried to comfort her, or if he was with Aurora. God, she couldn't get over how much those two loved each other. Buffy knew that he would do anything for her daughter, and she loved him for that. Maybe that wasn't all . . .  
  
Shaking her head, Buffy got off of the couch. *I'm tired, and I haven't been thinking straight lately,* she justified as she went to the kitchen for a drink of water.  
  
She paused at the kitchen door, spying the computer in the corner of the room. Joyce had mainly used it to file her taxes, or play solitaire, and occasionally Buffy would go online, but that was all the work it got. It usually stayed in the corner, collecting dust.  
  
Joyce had known how much Buffy loved to write, and was always trying to get her to write stuff on the computer. Buffy had always commented that she was too busy.  
  
Suddenly determined, Buffy forgot about the water, turned on the PC, and opened a word processing program.  
  
Her good friend was the only thing on her mind as she wrote, her fingers moving hurriedly over the keyboard. She just started writing stuff, some of it rambling sentences and incoherent passages. Some of it was autobiographical, some complete fiction, but all true to her.  
  
Spike joined her some hours later, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He grabbed a chair and sat down beside her. Buffy scooted over so that he could read easier. Occasionally, he'd comment on a paragraph, or offer some grammar corrections.  
  
"This helping?" he asked as some clock in the house chimed five AM.  
  
"Kinda. I'll know someday."  
  
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psychovampgurl- OK, we don't have to have clowns, and absolutely no mimes, so how about strippers? You know, spice up the homework protest? I like it anyway. Well, I just wrote a very UST spuffy chapter, which I will post in a while, so we'll at least have that.  
  
Imzadi- Everything's pretty much falling apart, isn't it? Well, we can all hope it turns out. Hopefully, I can finish MRV soon, just as long as life doesn't suck.  
  
Meee- Well, she might someday. Hopefully he'd say yes.  
  
Comedia- Whatever, whatever, I do what I want. *Snap! Snap!* Come and make me do it! I dare you! Munchkin!  
  
Tikigirl- Well, I guess this chapter answers your question. At least the Joyce part. Soon, you'll find out Dru's fate.  
  
Qtefish- Hope this was enough Spuffy to tide you over. For a while. ALIAS ROCKS!  
  
!SNAP!- Get a life. Miss you.  
  
Chrestomanci- Sorry I don't find Starfence as fascinating as you. I guess I like good shows. Whatever. Woot!  
  
FirstAidKid- If this were a perfect world, Spike would have been Aurora's daddy. But sadly, my story is not perfect.  
  
Lurking-in-the-shadows- Angel will fall. Ha! I made a funny.  
  
Celestria16- Thank you very much dear.  
  
Sokkerblondie005- Well, thanks for all the comments. I'm really glad you like this story. However, sorry to say, this will be Spuffy. Me no likey Bangel.  
  
Cali- Thank you very much for the compliments. :) I hope you enjoy this chapter, even though it is a little sad. 


	21. Another Day

Disclaimer: I don't own Billie Letts' "Where the Heart Is", or Joss Whedon's "Buffy the Vampire Slayer. What, I can't always have a funny disclaimer, can I? Am I just here as a clown for your amusement? Let's just see who's the clown when you're wearing the funny nose and multicolored wig! Yeah, Bozo, what the fuck are you going to do then?  
  
Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language.  
  
Author's Notes: Hi! New update! *Waits for cheer or applause, and looks sad when there is none.* Hope everyone is doing spiffy. Don't really know what to say. Kinda drawing a blank. Um . . . how 'bout them Bears? Which Bears? Um . . . the brown ones? I got nothin'. OK, hope everyone enjoys the update. Also, I've moved my journal to Live Journal. I've corrected the link in my profile. Kisses.  
  
PS: Death to the WB for canceling Angel.  
  
I dedicate this chapter to Imzadi, who wouldn't get of f my back until I mentioned, Lindsey once more.  
  
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Chapter Twenty-One- Another Day  
  
All of the sudden the gray days melted into spring, even though February had yet to come. Tara celebrated the return of the sun by taking the top off of her convertible.  
  
As she pulled beside 1630 Revello, turning down the volume of the radio, she stared at the old, familiar house. Through her teenage years and onward, she could always escape the hectic world and visit her old friend, Joyce, and Buffy when she moved in later on.  
  
She couldn't believe that the house wouldn't be a place to visit in a few weeks.  
  
The cheerful giggling of Aurora was erupting from the backyard, so Tara ignored going through the front door. Flipping open the latch of the side gate, she walked to the grassy area. She was soon attacked by a tiny little monster.  
  
"Tawa!" Aurora greeted, wrapping her tiny arms around the woman's waist.  
  
"Hi, honey," Tara exclaimed, picking up the child and kissing her cheek. "Where's your mommy?"  
  
Wriggling out of Tara's grasp, Aurora pulled Tara to the porch.  
  
"She's looking at the papews again," the now girl explained, depositing the woman at the back door. Aurora ran off, intent on finishing the castle in her sandbox.  
  
Tara knocked before entering; sighing at the mess that met her. The dishes hadn't obviously been done in a while, and the garbage was overflowing. The breakfast table was the only thing that remained orderly, although stacks of newspapers and housing ads overpowered the surface.  
  
"Hey." Buffy's tired voice came out of the papers as the young woman lifted her head to greet Tara.  
  
"You poor thing," Tara lamented, before heading off to the sink to clean the dishes, ignoring Buffy's protests.  
  
She looked ten years older. Dark circles had formed under her eyes, and her blonde hair hung limp in a ponytail.  
  
"Any word yet?" Tara asked, filling the sink with warm, soapy water.  
  
Buffy groaned, pulling a paper off one of the stacks and reading it. "Nope. The IRS hasn't given any notice on when exactly they will . . . what's the word?"  
  
"Liquidate?"  
  
"Yeah . . . liquidate Joyce's stuff.  
  
Rinsing the first plate, Tara began searching for a scrub brush.  
  
"And the house?"  
  
"Can't keep it," Buffy answered. "I wasn't related to Joyce, and I didn't help with the payments, so I don't legally live here. And, God, don't try to find a decent, cheap house in Sunnydale, because they don't fucking exist!"  
  
The first plate had been dried off. "So", Tara began, hearing the sadness in her voice, "You two are off to LA?"  
  
"There are some good apartments in a nice area, next to the Wal-Mart. I've talked to my manager, and he's finishing my transfer to the one in Los Angeles in a few days," Buffy explained. "I'm driving up on Saturday to check 'em out."  
  
Tara hesitated before speaking again.  
  
"You could just stay with one of us, save some money until you find a nice place . . ."  
  
"No!"  
  
Nearly dropping the next plate, Tara jumped.  
  
Buffy grabbed a nearby stack of papers and began shuffling through them.  
  
"I've done that all my life," she continued, "Living with other people. I've always had to have other people take care of me. And I'm officially sick of taking advantage of my friends. I'm twenty-one years old with a child, and I have a good job, so I should be able to be a fucking adult." She paused, and tilted her head down. "Not that I'm not thankful for the offer, but I can't do it anymore."  
  
Nodding, Tara discovered that she was almost half way through with the dishes.  
  
"I understand. You want to be treated like an adult. We all just don't want you and Rory to go." Wiping another plate clean, a wicked smile grew on Tara's face. "There's one person especially who's going to be devastated."  
  
"Who?"  
  
Tara turned her head, avoiding the blonde's eyes. "Spike."  
  
"Spike?" Buffy looked literally confused. "That's only because he loves Rory so much."  
  
Rolling her eyes, Tara spun right around and put her hands on her hips, the resolve face she had learned from Willow firmly planted on.  
  
"Give me a break! He truly, madly, deeply, really really REALLY loves *you* so much! He would love you even if you ran him over with your car. On purpose! Don't tell me you haven't seen it!" she ranted, very un-Tara like.  
  
Buffy was the first to break eye contact. "It's not that way with us. We're just really good friends. It'd be like you and Willow dating."  
  
About to reply, Tara choked on the words, and turned away quickly to hide the blush rising on her cheeks.  
  
"You OK?" Buffy asked.  
  
Tara began nodding, not looking back. "I'm f-f-fine, don't w-w-w-w-worry. Lunchtime?" Quickly, she changed the subject, hoping Buffy wouldn't notice.  
  
"That'd be great," Buffy sighed, standing up from her chair. "I'd like to have a few minutes of non-work stuff."  
  
"Yeah," Tara muttered, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
A few days later, Buffy sat on the front porch, in the very same seat where she and Joyce had talked all those years ago. Aurora was on the sidewalk; her newly cut hair in little pigtails, drawing ponies and castles with sidewalk chalk.  
  
Buffy was going through a few more housing advertisements when a car slowly pulled up in front of the house. It was clean, black, and obviously expensive.  
  
The owner turned off the engine and stepped out of the vehicle. She was dressed in a navy business suit, a black leather suitcase held in one hand, her dark black hair nearly brushing her shoulders. Taking off her sunglasses, she began studying the home, a smile coming to her face when her eyes fell on Buffy.  
  
"Buffy Summers?" the woman asked.  
  
*Great. The IRS has finally decided to destroy my life,* Buffy bitterly thought, standing up to greet the woman.  
  
The woman stepped around Aurora as she walked up the front steps, holding out her hand when they met.  
  
"Lilah Morgan, attorney for Wolfram and Hart, LA branch," she said, pulling out a business card once they shook hands.  
  
*OK, not IRS.*  
  
Inviting the woman to sit, Buffy headed back to her chair on the porch, the woman following.  
  
"I must say how sorry I am for your loss," Lilah began. "I know I was very upset to hear about it. I've known Joyce for many years."  
  
"You did," Buffy responded, raising an eyebrow.  
  
She nodded. "When I was younger, I lived right next door. Joyce was very good friends with my mother and stepfather, and treated my stepsister Marie and I very kindly. We moved away when I was in middle school, but she still kept in touch."  
  
Buffy nodded, a smile coming to her face as she remembered her first meeting with Joyce, and the Marie mistake.  
  
"Anyway," Lilah continued, "When I was hired by Wolfram and Hart, one of my first clients was Joyce. This was around the time when she discovered her first tumor, and she wanted me to set her affairs in order should she die. I made out a will, and she would visit me from time to time to revise it."  
  
Pausing, Lilah took a file out of her briefcase. "About a year ago, Joyce came for our last visit. She told me she needed a great big change in the will, about the young mother and daughter who were living with her. All though the meeting, you and your daughter were the only topic she wanted to discuss.  
  
"I don't want you to feel that you were in any way responsible for speeding up Joyce's death. It was bound to happen, and she was always ready for it. But, you and your little girl made those last years for her enjoyable. She always wanted a daughter and grandchildren, and you did more for her than you could ever know."  
  
Both the women had tears glistening in their eyes by the time Lilah stopped talking.  
  
"Well," Lilah continued, handing the file to Buffy, "It's all in here."  
  
"W-what?" Buffy stuttered, staring blankly at the file.  
  
"The deed to the house, land, the gallery, and whatever money she doesn't give away to her friends and charities. I think you and your daughter are going to be fairly well off." She laughed at the shocked look on Buffy's face.  
  
"I'd stay a bit longer," she finished while standing, looking quickly at her watch, "But I have to go. My fiancée Lindsey and I are going out to dinner, and he hates it when I'm late, so I'll say goodbye."  
  
Turning on her heels, Lilah made her way down the steps, avoiding Aurora's artwork as she went to her car. Buffy felt new tears falling down her cheeks as she silently thanked her friend.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
JOYCE DAVIS'S LAST STATEMENT:  
  
"To all my friends, I hope you don't cry for me that long. I've known that I am not supposed to lead a long life, but you have helped to make it a full one. This isn't my official will, but this is how I want my possessions to be divided, in English.  
  
"For Mr. Rupert Giles, Ms. Anya Jenkins, Mr. William Giles, Ms. Drusilla Giles, Mr. Alexander Harris, Mrs. Cordelia Chase-Harris, Dr. Willow Rosenburg, and Ms. Tara McClay, I give you each the sum of $4,000. Please do not spend it on crap (Xander) or bills (Giles).  
  
"Rupert, you will receive my collection of art books as a donation to the library. You and Anya will also get the set of china that Anya's been eyeing for a long time.  
  
"William, you get the trunk of rare books I hid from you, because I know that you would've borrowed them long ago. I also will give you my grandmother's engagement ring, for purposes in the future. Don't give up, my dear (wink-wink).  
  
"Dear, sweet Drusilla, I have a box of porcelain dolls with your name on it, companions for your Miss Edith. Have many wonderful tea parties.  
  
"Xander and Cordelia, you will get the antique wardrobe I have in the attic. If you continue to have kids at the rate you do now, you're going to need all the storage you can get.  
  
"Willow, the soon-to-be famous pediatrician, you get the apothecary table I bought in France a long time ago. It's not to hold records, so please make sure Oz doesn't take it over.  
  
"Tara, my gardener and tea buddy, you get all of the gardening tools I never used. Ha, had you going there, didn't I? You get the rosewood bench in my room, the one I've known you've loved for many years.  
  
"For my dear, darling Aurora Rose Summers, you will inherit the sum of $8,000 to be added to the generous trust fund given to you by the kind Wal- Mart people. Make me proud, sweetie.  
  
"And, as for Buffy Summers, she will inherit the deed to my house, ownership of the gallery, and the sum of $10,000. For someone who has led such a tough life, you deserve it. Never, even for one second, believe that you are weak, because you are the strongest person I have ever met. Do not think of this as charity, but as something you have earned; for being the daughter I never had.  
  
"And don't let any of your *friends* guilt you into giving them some more money. I'm watching you people.  
  
"I love you all so much, and hopefully we will meet again. Except for Xander, who will have a wonderful time in Hell (I love you dear!)."  
  
Joyce.  
  
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Celestria16- Why, thank you dearie!  
  
Mita427- Yes, I killed her! And, did you call me a stupid whore and "rawr" at me? Fucking fine! *Pulls off the gloves* It's on bitch! I'll kick yo' ass up and down the block! You will fear me like I fear Spam! Angel doesn't read books because he's stupid, so I don't think he'd know if Buffy became an author. Hahaha! She won't publish a book . . . yet. Luv ya too!  
  
Sokkerblondie005- Sorry for the sadness, but all stories have to have some sadness, or they don't count as stories. I guess. Nope, Bangel is badness for me. But no hatred for you. He still is cute, even though peroxide boy is much much much much more cuter! I have no life.  
  
Cali- I made you cry? Cool . . . and sad, but cool! Joyce was a great lady, and fun to write for. And yes, our Buffy may be harboring certain "more than friendly" feelings for Spike, but knowing her, it's going to be a difficult road. You shall receive little crumbs every now and then.  
  
Imzadi- Yeah, yeah, sorry I didn't respond to your email. I promise on my collection of Buffy DVDs that I will finish MRV soon. Cool? Gave you a little Lindsey tidbit, even though it wasn't a walk on appearance. I like him and Lilah together. Sort of the "duo o' disaster", or goodness in this case. BTW, Lindsey was on "Las Vegas" last Monday, and he was so good.  
  
Comedia- Yes, I could write a shorter chapter. I guess it was long enough for you, seeing how you're an idiot. Alsoiamhappythatyoulikeditandthateventhoughyouareawhoreiamgladyouaremyfriend .  
  
Once More With Feeling- Yes, sadness for Joyce, but I hope the happy parts to follow will make up for it. SPUFFINESS IS THE BEST! BOO ANGEL!  
  
Psychovampgurl- We don't have to look at the strippers, seeing how we are organizing the event. It is just to let people know that we hate homework so much we will hire people to strip for our cause. UST stands for "I'm going to annoy a lot of people because it's going to take for fucking ever to get these two morons together." Hope that helps. Thanks for the entry on my Open Diary. Luv ya too!  
  
Lurking-in-the-shadows- Even though Joss is a GOD, I still am mad that he killed Joyce. But, we can't always have what we want. Thank you.  
  
Tobert- You're going to have to wait a very long time before you get into the pure Spuffiness. A long time . . .  
  
Semajyrrah- Thank you very much. I hope you like this chapter.  
  
Rhapsody-child-of-the-sky- Know what you mean about Bungle (tee hee, I like that. Gonna have to borrow it). I'm glad you like my story. 


	22. City of

Disclaimer: I don't own Billie Letts' "Where the Heart Is", or Joss Whedon's "Buffy the Vampire Slayer. What, I can't always have a funny disclaimer, can I? Am I just here as a clown for your amusement? Let's just see who's the clown when you're wearing the funny nose and multicolored wig! Yeah, Bozo, what the fuck are you going to do then?  
  
Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language.  
  
Author's Notes: I got a note on Monday (?) from some avid reader wanting me to update quickly. Now, I'm not saying that sending me emails repeatedly will get a chapter posted, but for that day it was enough to force me. I'll try to be better with the whole updating thing. Is everyone ready for UST? God, I love those parts in the story. It wasn't like Buffy season seven wasn't full of that between our Spuffy heroes. So, little summary of this chapter: Buffy has more good luck. Yeah, that's about it. Hope you enjoy. Have a great weekend.  
  
PS: Death to the WB for canceling Angel.  
  
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Chapter Twenty-Two- City of . . .  
  
Since he had been released from prison, Angel hadn't visited Los Angeles. But, in a way, Liam Sloane had never been to the fair City of Angels.  
  
Glory's record label was having their annual United States tour, and with the success of "A Place Called Home", Angel had been put on the bill at the last moment. With ten other country headliners, Angel finally understood what it meant to be a star.  
  
He now understood the perks of the job title. Girls of all ages were simply flocking to him, and the alcohol and narcotics were flowing in just as quickly. But it wasn't enough. "Place" had been on the country charts for a few months, and it was now beginning to drop. The record was selling fine, but Glory refused to push another Liam Sloane-penned track as a single, choosing instead his cover of a Johnny Cash song. Angel realized that, in order to stay successful, he might have to look for new representation.  
  
Standing in the lobby of Los Angeles Hilton hotel, he pushed the elevator button, waiting for the doors to finally open. He gazed around, watching the people dash in and out, trying to find some special lady who would relieve the boredom before the concert later tonight.  
  
A few elevators down, he saw a candidate pop out. Wearing a nice, but simple, business suit, she was reading the contents of letter, her head down. She was small, blonde, and although he only saw the back of her (and a nice back it was), he knew she'd be fun to play with. Smiling smugly to himself, he adjusted the jacket of the suit Glory picked out, and prepared to go introduce himself. There was something about her, something that felt-  
  
Angel stopped dead in his tracks when a guy also left the open elevator. He ran up behind the blonde girl, and tried to steal the letter she was reading, but she managed to avoid it, and with her back turned to Angel, began scolding the man with the bleached hair. The two bantered, and the guy grabbed at his heart in fake pain. Finally, she pulled him into a hug.  
  
The guy saw Angel staring, and the look that crossed his face was clear:  
  
'Back the fuck away'.  
  
In any other case, Angel could have beaten the living shit out of someone that size, but this didn't look like any normal guy.  
  
A chime sounded when the elevator Angel had been waiting for finally opened, and after hesitating for a moment, he stepped in, and immediately forgot the blonde girl and her friend.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Buffy laughed as Spike tried to steal the note she was reading. She found it on the pillow of her bed the moment she had walked into her hotel room, a message from Aurora and Tara (who was playing babysitter), wishing her luck.  
  
"No," she giggled, holding the note to her chest; "You can read it when I'm done!"  
  
"It takes you a bloody half-hour to read a sentence! How much longer do I have to wait?" he teased.  
  
"Until the day you are allowed into heaven."  
  
"Oh, you crush me with your words," he moaned, pressing his hand against his heart in some overly dramatic gesture.  
  
"So sorry," she groaned, reaching up to hug him. He rolled his eyes, but complied in the hug.  
  
They held onto each other for a moment before pulling away, and when Buffy looked back at him, there was a change. His face twisted into some sort of dark frown, his eyes glaring at something behind her.  
  
"What's wrong," she asked, looking over her shoulder and finding nothing.  
  
"Huh?" he shook it off, the usual smirk replacing the frown. "Nothing."  
  
She shook her head, starting to walk to the main exit. "Weirdo."  
  
He was right behind her. "You're one to talk."  
  
Once outside, the doorman hailed a taxi, and the two headed off towards the publishing house that had asked for a meeting with Buffy.  
  
After everything had settled in, and Buffy reluctantly quit her job at the Wal-Mart to take over Joyce's gallery, Spike had pestered her to send in the essays and short stories she had written. He had gotten every one of their friends to read them, and they joined in the "Publish Buffy" campaign.  
  
Evading the pushing as long as she could, Buffy grudgingly sent a collection of her top five stories to publishing companies and magazines across the country. There were a lot of rejection letters sent back, and a few didn't even bother to reply, so Buffy felt that it had all been for nothing.  
  
Until, one week later, Buffy received a letter from the Los Angeles-based women's magazine, "Female Council", inviting her to meet with the submissions editor, Ms. Charlotte. Because he had been so intent on getting her published, Buffy asked Spike to tag along to the scary city.  
  
Ten minutes later, the taxi pulled up in front of a large building, all glass and steel, and very intimidating. At every checkpoint, Buffy had to show the guards and receptionists the invitation, and they immediately let her through.  
  
Floor twenty-nine was the final destination; a swankly decorated office styled in exposed stone and glass. While the snotty receptionist told Buffy that she would have to wait, Spike claimed a leather couch in the waiting area as his.  
  
Buffy joined him, nervously wringing her hands as the minutes passed.  
  
"What if they don't want to offer me anything?" she questioned, her voice high in pitch. "What if they just want me here to yell at me? Like, they think I suck so badly they wanted to tell me in person?"  
  
"They wouldn't put you and me up in a swank hotel if they were just going to tell you off," Spike muttered, glaring at the copy of "Female Council" on the coffee table he just knew he'd be reading when Buffy went into her meeting.  
  
"You think so?" Her eyes were wide.  
  
Smiling, he placed a chaste peck on her forehead. "You're bloody brilliant, and if they don't know it yet, they'll figure it out soon."  
  
Then, he nodded in the direction of the receptionist. Buffy turned, and saw the woman waving her in.  
  
Gathering her thoughts, and trying hard to calm and collected, Buffy allowed herself to spare a nervous smile for her friend as she walked into Ms. Charlotte's office.  
  
Ms. Charlotte didn't turn out to be the clean and poised woman Buffy assumed she would be. Not even twenty-five, Ms. Charlotte sat on top of her messy desk, watching TV while eating out of a greasy box of Chinese take out. She was barefoot, wearing a black tank top and gray shorts, her curly brown hair held back in a ponytail.  
  
"Hey, Buffy," she greeted, slurping down the rest of the noodles before turning off the TV. "Just finishing lunch. How you doin'? Need anything? Coffee? Sandwich? Booze?"  
  
"I'm fine, Ms. Charlotte," Buffy responded quietly, sitting in a nearby chair.  
  
"Nah, it's Faith. Not a teacher here, B."  
  
"'K . . . I'm fine, Faith."  
  
Faith let out a loud, rich laugh. "You're quite a character, B! Don't be nervous. LA's such a stuck-up tight ass town that we don't need more!"  
  
Chuckling softly, Buffy watched Faith jump off her desk, and pull a file Buffy recognized as her submission out from underneath a pile of clothing.  
  
"From what I hear from the people who read the shit people send in," Faith began, indicating the file in her hand, "Yours' has got a lot of potential. So, they send it up, and I read. And I like." She hesitated a moment. "But what you sent in doesn't seem to fit with the style of 'Female Council'."  
  
Buffy felt her eyes well up with tears, but tried to look unaffected as she stood. "Well, thank you very much for your time," she muttered, reaching for the file in Faith's hand.  
  
"Whoa!" Faith yelled, pulling the file to her chest. "No need to be all jumpy. I'm not finished, B. I'd like to hire you on as a freelance writer."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
Rolling her eyes, Faith sat down back on her desk. "You won't be a full timer. All you do is send in a few submissions at the beginning of each month. If I like, I'll put it in the magazine. It can be anything you want. After a while, we'll see about putting you on staff. Doesn't pay much, but you can get good exposure."  
  
Shocking the two women equally, Buffy jumped up and pulled Faith into a bear hug. Although Faith did grimace some, she didn't say anything.  
  
"OH GOD!" Buffy shrieked the smile on her face a mile wide. "This is so fucking awesome!"  
  
"Whatever," Faith said, trying hard not to get caught up in Buffy's enthusiasm. "Now get the fuck outta my office so I can watch 'Jerry Springer'. Take the stud you brought here out to dinner and celebrate, or whatever freaky shit you like to do."  
  
"Thank you so much again!" Buffy said once more, refraining from hugging her new boss once more.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, get out!"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Buffy didn't like to get drunk. Yeah, she'd have a beer when hanging out, or a few of those fruity drinks when she went out with her friends, but never enough to make her spend the next day with a major hangover.  
  
She said, "Fuck that!" as soon as she and Spike got back to the hotel after having dinner, and ordered two bottles of champagne to be sent up to her room. Already slightly tipsy from the wine at the restaurant, she was ready to get shit-faced.  
  
Taking a gulp straight out of the just-opened bottle, Buffy, now dressed in her Yummy Sushi pajamas, pounded on the door of Spike's room, which was adjoined to hers.  
  
"Who is it?" he mockingly asked, grinning as he opened the door, wearing a Sex Pistols shirt and drawstring pants.  
  
Ignoring him, Buffy shoved the other bottle in his hand and flung herself on his bed.  
  
"Wow," she exclaimed, staring up, "Your ceiling's a lot bigger than mine!"  
  
"For such a cutie, Goldilocks," Spike muttered as he tore the foil off the bottle, watching her roll around on his bed, "You're a lightweight drinker."  
  
"Nah-huh. I'm not a lightweight."  
  
"Um, yah-huh."  
  
"Nah-huh!"  
  
"Yah . . . bloody fuck, I'm not having this argument with you!"  
  
An evil grin split his face as he finally got to the cork of the champagne bottle. With two quick shakes, the cork was off, and Buffy was covered in champagne fizz.  
  
She bolted up, drunken fury surging through her body.  
  
"You bastard!" she screamed, her own bottle suddenly forgotten as it dropped to the floor. Spike grabbed it before it spilled all over the floor, while Buffy stumbled to the bathroom to dry off.  
  
When she came back in the room, Spike had taken her place on the bed, swigging off his own bottle while he watched TV. She sat beside him, arms crossed, absently watching him channel surf.  
  
After a while of her angry silence, he rolled his eyes and turned to her. "You're not mad at me, are you?"  
  
Shaking her head, Buffy kept watching, intent on staying angry.  
  
"It was only a joke," he reasoned.  
  
"Funny."  
  
He held back a smile as he rolled over to her, and trapped her two arms above her head.  
  
"You're going to be mad at me all night, aren't you?" he asked, that stupid smile of his tugging at the corners of his mouth.  
  
"Yesh." Buffy may have been drunk and slurring, but she could still be stubborn.  
  
Looking very defeated, Spike began to back away, only to bury his face in her stomach. Muttering "I'm sorry" in between blowing raspberries on her skin, Buffy was shaking from laughing so hard. When Spike finally pulled away, she was in such a state that she ended up falling off the bed.  
  
He jumped over to her suddenly, afraid that she was hurt. But, the fall only caused her to laugh harder.  
  
"You're . . . a . . . asshole," she spewed out, tears pouring down her face.  
  
Sighing, Spike wrapped his arms around her. "And you're still a lightweight."  
  
Buffy tried hard to pout, but found herself unable. He was so close that she could feel his breath on her face, but it wasn't close enough. All she had to do was lean up . . .  
  
*God, how drunk am I?*  
  
The mirth dancing in his eyes was quickly replaced by something darker, deeper. She nearly forgot how to breathe when he reached up, pulling a strand of hair out of her eyes and cupping her face with his hands. He leaned in, his lips closing the distance with hers . . .  
  
RING!  
  
Buffy pulled away, startled by the sound.  
  
RING!  
  
There it was again.  
  
*Ring? Ring? Phone? Phone. My phone!*  
  
"My phone!" she blurted, jolting up and feeling very sober all of the sudden.  
  
Buffy ran to the door, leaving Spike on the floor, the expression on his face cloudy.  
  
Turning the handle, she spared one last look at her friend (*Yes, Buffy, your very good FRIEND!*).  
  
"I'm just gonna . . ." she trailed off, not waiting for a response as she went through to her room.  
  
Her cell phone was nearby on the nightstand, and as Buffy sank down she picked it up, her back against the door separating her from a big mistake. It was Tara.  
  
"Hey, Tara," she began, closing her eyes.  
  
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Celestria16- Totally thank you so much for reading!  
  
Ghettogirlofreno- I am so super funny, so of course it was good! Do you have any doubt in my talent as a writer or super human being? Do you obviously think that I am not able to write a coherent sentence? Well, I'm so creative that I'm going to write a sentence no one has ever seen: Blood under the couch, five six seven, and a hop to the moon, buy cheese aliens and tennis. HA! That's how awesome I am! Oh, and I can so go Reno on your ass. That just means pretending to pull a slot machine. Ca-ching!  
  
Imzadi- Why wouldn't Joyce make sure that her Buffy and Aurora weren't taken care of? She's not Hank Summers, mind you. Hope the little mention of Lindsey was enough to sate you. Oh, yeah, he was really hot on Las Vegas, except for the whole dancing thing. That was a little scary. He dances like a pimp. Hope the UST was good enough for you, too.  
  
Comedia- Yeah, everything was wrapped up. You know what? Maybe if you weren't such a bitch, I'd be able to write better. But, no! You gotta come in my room and criticize whatever I type out. "Oh, well that's not how it happened in the story! Your chapters are too short!" By the way, should you be taking about length when you barely come up to my boobs? "We welcome you to Munchkin Land!" Huh, Titty-girl? What you gonna say now? Oh, I better stop, or you're going to go Reno on my white ass, aren't you?  
  
Mita spufette- Whenever I'm yelling at someone in my reviews, they are usually my friends or readers who won't take offence to me making fun of them. It goes both ways. I'm glad other people find it funny. So, yeah, I had to kill Joyce. Sad, but necessary for the whole "I'm a grownup" Buffy thing. Oh, and about the whole "super" thing, I actually found myself saying "groovy" today. I wasn't even alive during the 70's!  
  
Mita427- I actually have no idea about the bears. I was smoking a lot of crack and just had to type. Actually, what was originally going to happen in this chapter was Angel was going to take a pass at Buffy, and Spike would go all caveman and beat the living shit outta the prick. Then, Angel would wake up in some deserted factory, duct-taped to a chair, the baby rattle in his mouth (thank you very much), where soon after Buffy and Spike would perform hideous and disfiguring experiments on him. After they would remove his "special man part", Buffy and Spike would have sex. But, I thought about it, and realized that it was what YOU wanted, so I decided against it. Tough luck, slut! Kisses!  
  
Iselyn- I really liked it when I wrote that quote, and I'm happy that other people liked it too. Was this chapter any more evidence that Buffy needed to know that Spike loves her? Our girl is too blind to see it. But just you wait until . . . oh, nevermind. That would be spoiling. And that's bad. Tee hee hee.  
  
Harm Marie- Cool name! Glad you liked the little note. I don't know how to write in lawyer talk, so a letter was the best I could do. At least we got to know how everything was spilt up, and I hope everyone noticed the little part about the ring? Joyce wasn't blind.  
  
Lurking-in-the-shadows- I've always been partial to Tara and Willow-ness. No matter how cute Oz and Willow were together, Tara made me completely forget about the redhead drummer. Buffy is so in denial land, she has no idea where to get out. I've just written an Angel-centric chapter that won't be posted for a few days, but let me tell you, he gets what he deserves, and much more! AAAHHH! No more spoilers! 


	23. Some Good in Us

Disclaimer: I don't own Billie Letts' "Where the Heart Is", or Joss Whedon's "Buffy the Vampire Slayer. What, I can't always have a funny disclaimer, can I? Am I just here as a clown for your amusement? Let's just see who's the clown when you're wearing the funny nose and multicolored wig! Yeah, Bozo, what the fuck are you going to do then?  
  
Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language.  
  
Author's Notes: 'K ladies and gents . . . actually, I don't know if any guys read this story. Do they? Anyway, I have to warn you that this isn't a happy chapter. I've done something horrible to a very important person. Please forgive me, this is very important in the context of the story I based it on. And, if I didn't do it, my sister and Emma would kill me. Sending mean emails to me won't fix it. I feel really bad for doing it, but it's all for the better. In other notes, I'm going to start responding to reviews in opposite order. It has to do with me copying and pasting the way they are in the review page to save the process of checking back and forth between pages. So, if you sent in your review early, it's near the end of the page. Nothing to do with love, here! You all are special, except for Comedia, Chrestomanci, and Mita427! They are all bitches (love you guys so much)! So, hope you like reading. No curses or plagues sent to me, please.  
  
PS: Death to the WB for canceling Angel. Buffy's speech at the end was taken directly from the story, word for word.  
  
Dedications: This is a shout out to my muse, Amy-gee, who forced it in my head that it needs to happen this way, and to Emma, who would kill me if I didn't make this chapter parallel to the one in WtHI. Kisses.  
  
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Chapter Twenty-Three- Some Good in Us  
  
Groaning, Buffy threw her head back, staring at the ceiling and cursing her fate. No matter how many times she tried to break through it, the writer's block remained firm.  
  
It was her lunch hour, and the Gallery was closed as she sat at the computer in her office, trying for the thousandth time to get the main character out of the kitchen before it became too boring. At least she had two weeks until Faith wanted this submission.  
  
The phone rang, and Buffy rolled her eyes. This was supposed to be her private time, but those snotty buyers didn't really seem to care.  
  
"Sunnydale Gallery, Buffy speaking," she began, taking a pencil out and doodling on a sheet of paper. The other side was silent. "Hello?"  
  
No, it wasn't silent. In the background, there was a sniffling sound, like the person was crying. And then a yell, someone else screaming.  
  
And then the line went dead.  
  
Extremely confused now, Buffy pulled the receiver away from her ear. She hung up, then picked up the phone again to dial *69.  
  
*OK, 320-736-43 . . . oh shit! Willow's number.*  
  
Buffy waited for the phone to connect. Once it did, all she got was a busy signal.  
  
Less than a minute later, she was in her car, breaking the speed limit as she headed towards Willow's apartment. Her mind was racing, unsure of what, or who, she'd find when she got there.  
  
Once Buffy pulled into the complex, she saw Willow's green SUV parked in its usual spot. Oz's space was empty, but a T-shirt she recognized as his was lying on the ground.  
  
She sprinted up the steps, instantly seeing that the door to the apartment was wide open, shards of a broken wine glass littering the entryway.  
  
The place was a sight. Everything was in shambles. Half of Oz's collection of records was missing, as was his guitar and amplifier. The surface of glass coffee table Willow had selected with such care was shattered, like spiderwebs. Dishes smashed, pictures torn off the wall, blood on the . . .  
  
Blood on the carpet.  
  
Grabbing the broken leg of a chair, Buffy crept carefully past the kitchen, and into the hallway. If the place had been robbed, and the burglars were still here, she didn't want to find them unarmed.  
  
Both the office and the bathroom were in the same state as the living room, and completely devoid of life. Only one place left to look: the bedroom.  
  
The door was slightly ajar as she approached it, hefting the chair leg and completely ready to swing. She pushed the door open with her foot.  
  
Buffy gasped and dropped the chair leg when she saw Willow curled up in the fetal position on the floor, her back turned to her, whimpering in fear. A very large piece of glass was imbedded in her forearm, the blood from the wound just starting to clot around it.  
  
Very slowly, Buffy walked around to her friend, not wanting to scare her. She still held the phone, but it had been torn out of the wall. Willow's red hair hung in a curtain over her face. It was only when Buffy pulled the hair away did she fully see the extent of her injuries.  
  
One eye had already started to swell an ugly purple color, the other one threatening to do the same. The bridge of her nose was also bruised, and most likely broken. More shards of glass had poked their way into her right cheek, and across her forehead, these ones smaller. But there was still so much blood seeping out, especially from her mouth. Her front tooth almost appeared to be dangling from the space, the one next to it completely missing. And her jaw . . .  
  
Buffy fled out of the room, not from terror, but because her friend needed help. She tried the phone in the kitchen, but it was still off the hook. Then, she remembered Willow carried a cell phone in her purse, which lay across the kitchen table.  
  
Dialing 911, Buffy gave the operator the information. Her friend was hurt. No, she looks conscious. No, Buffy didn't know how it happened.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Cordelia ignored the screams of children originating from the tree house as she planted another geranium into her backyard garden. Holden was either hitting Meredith, or she was using his blankie as superhero cape, or something else. She didn't want to deal with the petty fighting this afternoon.  
  
The only thread hanging on to her sanity was asleep on a nearby blanket. Sydney was such a well tempered and adaptable baby, that she could nap almost everywhere and at anytime. If she ever got the notion to act like her older siblings, Cordelia knew she was going to loose it.  
  
Hearing her name shouted from the front yard, Cordelia yelled at the kids to knock it off, and walked off to find Xander, Clem, and Buffy loading boxes out of the minivan. She pitched in, and soon the many boxes and few furniture items were on the front lawn, each item labeled WILLOW.  
  
"Where should we put these?" Buffy asked, wiping the sweat off her forehead.  
  
"Shed?" Clem inquired, looking at the Harris' for verification.  
  
Cordelia shook her head. "Nope, not enough room. How about the basement?"  
  
Shrugging, Xander picked one of the boxes up, and made his way to the house, Buffy, Clem, and Cordelia following suit.  
  
"So," Cordelia began, stifling a giggle when Xander put his box as far away from his "game area" as possible, "She's all moved out."  
  
"Yep. God, you would think that her super would at least be civil after what happened. But no, he was trying to rush us out 'cause he had a couple who wanted to see the apartment at three," Buffy responded, not hiding the bitterness in her voice.  
  
"Too bad she can't afford to live there now, what with her paying off the hospital bills. She really loved that place," sighed Clem, wiping the sweat off his forehead.  
  
They went back upstairs to get more boxes.  
  
"Yeah, she liked it, but even if the hospital bills went away, she couldn't pay the rent by herself, even on a doctor's salary." You could tell by his tone how upset Xander was.  
  
"By the way, no one's answered this one," Cordelia butt in. "Where the fuck is Willow going to live now?"  
  
Picking up a box, Buffy gave the woman a look, before going back to the Chase's basement.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The two weeks Willow spent at the recovery ward of the Sunnydale University Hospital, being cared for by the same people she worked with, were long and confusing. The doctors had said that she was incredibly lucky that her jaw hadn't been broken, seeing the injuries she had sustained. Although Willow did suffer a broken nose, several lacerations, and two black eyes. Two brand new front teeth were added to the repairs.  
  
But, the sympathy from the staff only went so far. Willow did not have enough sick days, and needed to be back to work the day after she was released. Then, there was the apartment, which her friends had moved her out of while she recovered. She also had no desire to haggle with her HMO provider, and ended up paying a great deal of money for her injuries.  
  
She also felt the same way when the police approached her, asking if she wished to press charges on Oz, who had been found heading towards Texas a week later. The redhead had to be literally forced to file, especially her male friends who were itching to have it out with the musician.  
  
1630 Revello Drive became her tentative home. She had no idea when she'd be able to afford her own place, and Buffy wouldn't even think of asking if she found one.  
  
Buffy noticed the change in her friend immediately. Every day was the same: Willow got up, went to work, came back and slept. Obviously, the girl wasn't eating, and she rarely talked except to mutter monosyllabic responses to questions. Buffy's old room had been reverted into the guestroom, and Willow kept it that way. The only way a person could tell that someone was living there was pajamas folded up on the end of the bed each morning.  
  
Aurora knew, and would know, nothing of what her aunt went through. But, the girl was intelligent, and figured out that something really bad happened. She played quietly whenever Willow was home, but was always ready to give her a hug whenever Willow left her room.  
  
The police were the only people Willow had spoken to about that day were the cops, and Xander, try as he might, couldn't get any information out of them.  
  
Her friends didn't push her. They knew that she'd tell, eventually.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Around midnight, Buffy awoke from a restless sleep. It had been extremely humid all week, and the air conditioner had broken halfway through. It'd be days before the repairman would fix it.  
  
Slipping on a pair of flip-flops, and grabbing her laptop, Buffy headed towards the backyard. She planned to sit on the back porch, and knock a few chapters out before retreating back to bed.  
  
When she opened the screen door, Buffy saw that she wouldn't be alone. Willow sat on the stairs in her bathrobe, her eyes glued to the night sky.  
  
Buffy tried to sneak away, but Willow's voice soon called her back as she made space for her on the step. Leaving her laptop on the kitchen table, Buffy joined her friend outside.  
  
The bruises on Willow's face, and the cuts, were starting to heal, leaving behind green shadows and microscopic indentations on her skin. Although the swelling had gone down considerably on her nose, it still looked nasty.  
  
"Do I look that bad?" Willow asked, noticing Buffy's stare. There was a faint trail of tears staining her cheeks.  
  
She shook her head. "You've never looked bad," replied the blonde, stretching out her legs in the damp night air.  
  
"People at the hospital just keep staring. They've had me work in lab because they don't want the patients to get weirded out."  
  
"Well," Buffy sighed, "That's only for now. Soon you'll be ship-shape, and no one will be weird around you."  
  
Curling her arms around her legs, Willow finally looked her friend in the eyes. Hers were bloodshot, from endless nights of sleeplessness and crying.  
  
"That doesn't mean I will. I mean, sometimes I think it will be fine, but then I just keep remembering it was Oz. My Oz."  
  
"Will, you don't have to . . ." Buffy trailed off, putting her hand on top of Willow's.  
  
But Willow shook her head at the protest, and turned her hand around, putting Buffy's in hers. It was time.  
  
"I was on the morning shift, so I usually got to leave at two. But, it was such a slow day; they let me go around eleven. Oz was going to be at rehearsal with his band all day, so I planned on getting home, paying a few bills, and taking a bath.  
  
"Well, I pull into my space, and there's Oz's car. He had told me repeatedly that morning he would be out all day, so I was kinda surprised. I thought, 'Oh, maybe they cancelled it,' so I go inside, calling out the whole, 'I'm home' thing. I head straight for the bedroom because some kid vomited on my scrubs, and it's starting to smell so I need to change. I open the door, and Oz is in bed, just starting to wake up.  
  
"And so is the girl next to him."  
  
Willow choked back a sob, her voice cracking slightly.  
  
"I'd seen her before at the concerts. Skanky whore. Named Veronica, or Veruca. I don't remember. She was also in a band, so she and Oz would talk band stuff whenever they saw each other. I didn't think anything of it. You know, I talk doctor stuff with other doctors, he talks band stuff with other . . . bands.  
  
"They were just lying there, in our bed. Naked! Well, not completely naked, because she still had her bra on. He starts saying something about how 'This isn't what it looks like' and 'You were supposed to be home at later', and she just looks at me, this stupid grin on her face."  
  
A proud smile crept up on Willow's face as she spoke the next part. "I grabbed her clothes, and pulled her outta bed by her hair. Threw her out of the apartment butt naked. I went all wild woman on the ho.  
  
"But, then Oz starts yelling at me, and then I just started yelling back. Just everything we had been bottling up for the past few years just came out. He said that I cared more about my career than I did about him, and I slapped him. Funny thing is, he hits me back. We've never fought, I mean, not big, and suddenly we're hitting each other, and throwing shit at each other, and it gets bad. He pushed me into the coffee table, where I get this," she explained, pointing at the jagged scar on her arm where the glass had been imbedded.  
  
"That's when I ran into the bedroom. I didn't know what to do, and he was so mad. I tried to call you, but he bursts into the room and pulls the phone away from me, and starts kicking and hitting me, and I . . .  
  
She trailed off, staring away into the night absently, clutching Buffy's hand as if it were a lifeline.  
  
"I don't remember the rest."  
  
Willow had started to sob, breaking whatever façades she had left as she buried her face into Buffy's lap.  
  
"I feel so stupid," she yelled, "I thought I knew him! He had always been so kind, and funny, and gentle with me. And I never saw it! I didn't know he had so much meanness in him! How could he hide it? Was I that stupid not to see it?"  
  
Buffy began stroking her friend's red hair, the ends curling in the humidity.  
  
"You're not stupid. You just couldn't see it coming. Our lives can change with every breath we take." Buffy wiped away a tear. "Hell, I know that. You have to hold on like hell to what you've got- family."  
  
As Willow lifted her head, Buffy pulled her into a hug.  
  
"We've all got meanness in us . . ." Buffy continued, "But we've also got some good in us, too. And the only thing worth living for is the good. That's why we've got to make sure we pass it on, and never forget it."  
  
*  
  
*  
  
*  
  
Chrestomanci- Here's a thought!!! Stop using so many exclamation points!!!! It's bad Internet etiquette!!!! Yeah!!!! Spuffy good!!!! Reno !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! Poo on you.  
  
Comedia- I keep on with the jokes because I am naturally funny. C'mon, aren't I a riot? Well, I don't care. I do what I want. Kiss my preverbal ass. Oh, and don't even presume that the Yummy Sushi had anything to do with you. That's BtVS all the way! Yah! Son of a bitch!  
  
Psychovampgurl- Getting' off, huh? You slut. Remember, the strippers are only for attention, so people understand that we are serious about the cause. Maybe we can make some extra side money by pimping them off? Because Buffy stays away from country music (much like I do), and Angel isn't that famous, she won't see a picture of him. She has no idea he's a singer now. Spike just saw Angel eyeing Buffy, without knowing who he was, and was all, "Don't even think about it." Well, I already introduced Wes as the Wal-Mart representative. I don't think Fred or Gunn will make an appearance. Just pretend that they are hanging out somewhere, taking tequila shots. Love much!  
  
Sokkerblondie005- I adore you, but do not say a cruel word about Spike in my presence, or feel my wrath! My army of flying bunnies and twinkies attacks those who oppose me! I don't think that Angel either Angelus or Angel in this story. Kinda like Buffy said above, "We all got meanness in us." I guess that's the point of Angel. He's both evil and good. We'll see some good Angel later on in the story. OK, Angel does have that "tall, dark, and handsome" thing going on, but Spike is just 100% sexy. That's just my opinion. I could be wrong.  
  
Idolsgirl- Of course Angel deserves it! After wearing that stupid Italian coat in last night's episode, he deserves many forms of cruel punishment. Dawn was such a slut in the show, wasn't she?  
  
Imzadi- Pimps dance kinda like bendy straws. All they move is back and forth, humping the bitch they are with. Oh, I am blushing at your bowing. I know it wasn't enough, but he really doesn't fit in this world. He's too urban for the quiet world of Sunnydale. As I told Sokkerblondie005, Angel will have a major personality change soon. And, even if Faith was made Queen of England, she still be the sloppy, slutty girl we all love to hate. *Sigh*.  
  
Cali- So, here's the response to your first review: Yeah, and denial is just a river in Egypt. Buffy so has feelings for Spike, and Tara's not the only one who can see it. But, after what Angel did to her, Buffy's probably just over-cautious. Second review: I stole the whole "Angel seeing, but not recognizing Buffy" from the movie version of this story. But, I decided it'd be better if Spike was there to glare at Angel. I really don't know what gumption is, but thank you for saying it. *Winks* I know UST is very, very cruel, but I hope it's enough to tide everyone over. Well, you're going to have to wait a one more chapter for Angel's come-uppance. Kisses.  
  
Mita427- I like quickies! I mean . . . thanks. I've been taking too much Ex, so I just had ta post! *Rocks back and forth* Pointless would be the word to describe my feelings for describing sexy Spike. We all know that he's just a slice of hottie, and Buffy knows it to. But, there relationship isn't built on lust! That's what screwed up their relationship in Season Six! Damn you, Joss! Spike and Buffy belong together forever! Just because you're uber-honey doesn't mean that I have to write you porn. *Snaps fingers ghetto-like* ANGEL MUST DIE A HORRIBLE DEATH OF SNAKES! Where did that come from? Anyway, you can't make me update. I do what I want! Screw you! Love ya much.  
  
Celestria16- Grr, Angel very bad man! *Goes all cavegirl-like* Angel get hurt. Bam over head. Spike and Buffy need kissy. Many orgasms. *Shakes head* I feel better now. Love ya mucho! Hope you liked this one. 


	24. Poetic Justice part deux

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Billie Letts' "Where the Heart Is", or Joss Whedon's "Buffy the Vampire Slayer. What, I can't always have a funny disclaimer, can I? Am I just here as a clown for your amusement? Let's just see who's the clown when you're wearing the funny nose and multicolored wig! Yeah, Bozo, what the fuck are you going to do then?  
  
**Rating:** This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language.  
  
**Author's Notes:** Don't really have the time to say anything clever. I have a meeting to attend in a few minutes (not AA, assholes). So, thank you all for not stabbing me with metal objects because of my last post. Hope you like this one, because it's all about Angel. Oh . . . nevermind.  
  
**PS:** Death to the WB for canceling Angel.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Four- Poetic Justice part deux**  
  
As quick as he could, Angel poured the shot of tequila down his throat, wincing slightly at the burning in his throat.  
  
"Too much for you to handle, tiger," the man sitting across from him asked, a mocking smirk on his face.  
  
Angel rolled his eyes. This wasn't the time for joking.  
  
"Can we just skip to the important shit, forget all this fucking chitchat?" he growled, raising a hand up to order another shot.  
  
Shrugging, the man sipped a bit of his martini, eyes wandering around the smoky bar.  
  
No matter how cool he acted, on the inside Angel was scared shitless. Managing to secure a meeting with Lorne Pylea, one of the most respected representatives in the music industry, had been tough.  
  
Making sure Glory never found out would be harder.  
  
"I figure Glory's taken me as far as I can go," Angel admitted.  
  
"You do?" Lorne rested his head on his hand, not looking in any way curious.  
  
Nodding, Angel began playing with his empty shotglass. "Sure, I did fine with my first single, but that was almost a year ago, and I haven't been on the charts since that. It took me three months of begging to even get her to think about a music video."  
  
"Gotta admit, I thought that 'A Place Called Home' was a good little tune. Cute and homey. Kinda wondered if you disappeared after that," Lorne said, adjusting the collar of his (purple!?!) suit.  
  
"That's just it!" His shot had just arrived, and Angel let it go down like the others. "Instead of me being in the studio, I'm still driving to bars and casinos to play during Happy Hour! This is shit, and I'm done with it!"  
  
Lorne nodded throughout the rant, spacing out only to stare at a waiter who had passed by.  
  
"What do you expect me to do about it?"  
  
Angel sighed. "I wanna get out of my contract, and sign with you. If you represent me, I'll be able to go places Glory's never dreamed of. She's small town, but you! You can get me out of here."  
  
The over-embellishment of Lorne's abilities seemed to work, and he managed to crack a proud smile.  
  
Glancing at his watch, Angel saw that he was almost twenty minutes late for his sound check. Apologizing to his possible future representative, Angel stood up, paying the tab for him and Lorne.  
  
"I have to warn you, cutie," Lorne pointed out, "If Glory gets a whiff of this, she's going to play Twister with your testicles."  
  
"That's why Glory won't get a . . . whiff."  
  
"Alright, cool it. Don't get so Joan Collins." Lorne stood up as well, taking one last glance at the waiter's ass. "I'd just be a little careful of who you talk to these next few days. Glory's a powerful friend, but she's one bitch of an enemy."  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
_"Can you feel it?" Her voice had been soft, barely a whisper as she pressed his hand into her round stomach. "Can you feel it?"  
  
"Feel what, damnit?"  
  
Gently, as she lifted his hand up, she checked it with her own two fingers, and then replaced his.  
  
"Can't you feel that little 'thump . . . thump . . . thump'? That's where the baby's heart is."_  
  
Suddenly, Angel shot out of bed. His body was covered in a layer of sweat, the air chilling him to the bone. Trying to choke in a breath of air, he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.  
  
"What the fuck was that?"  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
The elevator doors opened slowly, and Angel fell out, the girl stumbling with him.  
  
Susie . . . or Sally . . . or Beth straightened up quickly, smoothing out her blue leather minidress. Her curly red hair was teased up, most of it held back by a thick leopard print headband, although some of it had fallen out during the dry humping in the elevator. Angel usually didn't go for redheads, but she was easy enough to make him forget.  
  
They fumbled through the hallways, not able to keep their drunken hands off each other. Thankfully, Angel was just sober enough to remember where his room was, and how to operate the key lock to open the door.  
  
As soon as the door shut behind them, Angel began to fumble with the zipper on the back of her dress. He was so horny that if he didn't get it quickly, something bad was going to happen.  
  
The girl, whose long nails had been scraping up and down his back, went still suddenly.  
  
"Who's that?" she asked, looking over his shoulder.  
  
"Who?" Confused, Angel turned around.  
  
Glory lay on his bed, polishing off a glass of champagne, wearing her usual attire of a slutty red dress, her feet bare.  
  
"Why the hell are you in my room?" Angel yelled, glaring at his manager.  
  
Smiling, Glory ignored him. "You," she said, pointing at Susie (?), "Out."  
  
Indignant, Susie folded her arms across her chest. "Why don't you make me, ho-bag?"  
  
Before anyone else could react, Glory was shutting the door, the girl sprawled out in the hall.  
  
"Why the hell are you in my room?" repeated Angel.  
  
"Your room? Your room?" Glory had that glint in her eyes that always frightened Angel. "Honeycakes, I paid for this room. I paid for the car that brought you here. I paid for your fucking clothes."  
  
"OK, fine. Why are you in your room?"  
  
Glory suddenly glared at him. "Are you drunk?"  
  
Straightening up, Angel held his head high. "No."  
  
"Fucking drunk," Glory muttered.  
  
"So, what's it any of your business?"  
  
"Well, I was hoping to have a sober conversation with my client concerning legal matters," Glory explained, not sounding at all happy.  
  
He gulped. "Legal matters?"  
  
The grin was back. "Yeah, it seems that the Northern Willamette Casino wants to sue you for trashing the room they gave you, bailing out on one of the shows, and for destroying public property after the last concert."  
  
Any faint hint of drunkenness faded away. "So, what are we going to do?" Angel inquired, sitting on his bed.  
  
"Well," Glory began, "I was going to head back to Tennessee, and have my new client, Lewis Andrews, record the song I legally own, 'A Place Called Home', for his debut CD. What are you going to do?"  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"I found out about your little rendezvous with Lorne Pylea." Her voice was cool, almost ice-like. "Apparently, you don't find me to be a suitable representative. So, I've already taken the liberty of dropping you from my client list."  
  
Angel blanched. "What?"  
  
Grinning evilly, Glory recovered the shoes she had kicked off earlier, and her purse. "You can take care of your own legal matters now. Or at least Lorne can, if he's crazy enough to sign you. And on behalf of my label, I want to thank you for donating all the songs you wrote for our writers to cover."  
  
"You can't do that," growled the man, rising to confront her.  
  
She began to walk out of the room, but Angel was right on her heels, grabbing her arm as she reached the door. Glory tried to shake him off. This only managed to make him angrier, and he slammed her against the wall.  
  
"You can't do that," he repeated darkly.  
  
Without hesitating, Glory swung, punching him right in the nose, before giving him a good kick in the crotch.  
  
"I just did," she replied, adjusting herself before walking out, Angel slumping on the floor.

* * *

sokkerblondie005-Yeah, yeah, whatever! I would so like to see you defeat me! I will treat you the way I treated that hobo last week . . . with un- kindness. You will wish that you never angered me, because my wrath is like a hundred fire ants biting your feet. The gods themselves to wet their pants whenever I enter a room. After I have chopped off your head and made a nice dip bowl out of your skull, I will use your severed arms as flyswatters. Whacha gonna do about that, punk?  
  
Celestria16- You really seem enthusiastic about that chapter. What, are you whore for violence? Yeah, I know you are. Don't deny it. :) It's all right, because so am I.  
  
Once More With Feeling- I hope you know what to think now, seeing how it's been a few days since I've posted. Yeah, I did a pretty shitty thing to Willow, and made Oz do a pretty shitty thing, but it's all for the sake of the story. Didn't scare you away, did I? makes sad face  
  
Randy Braden- OK, this is going to be a long explanation, so bear with me. I'm not a Willow-Oz hater. Until he left the show, I thought they were the cutest couple in the world. You see, a part of Willow's plot line in this story mirrors the one of Lexie Coop from "Where the Heart Is". In the book, Lexie meets this seemingly charming guy, who ends up being a total bastard, raping her kids and beating her horribly. The end of the last chapter, the thing Buffy says, I stole it from the story. The point Billie Letts and I were trying to make is that we all have some evil inside of us. Oz is generally a good-natured guy. But, he made a stupid mistake by having an affair with that bitch Veruca and losing control of his emotions. Kinda a parallel on his wolfie-ness in BtVS. Everybody does stupid things and this was his, and he pays for it. This was my way to be true to the story. I understand that you're really upset by it, and I'm sorry, but this was my choice as an author, and I hope you can respect that and keep reading.  
  
Lurking-in-the-shadows- Yeah, I had to let Willow do to Veruca what she wasn't able to do in Season Four. Wasn't that slut a bitch? Everytime I watch those episodes, I wanna run her over with a semi-truck, and then smack Oz for being an idiot. But, yeah, thanks!  
  
Samolly- Didn't mean to scare you, hon. Although, that would have been pretty fun. A nice "Don't read if you love Willow and want her alive!" in the author's notes would have caused quite a stir . . . Nah, it was just a fair warning. But, I'm glad you understand why I had to do it.  
  
Mita427- No, your mommy says you're special because she only pretends to love you. In all actuality, you were the one thing that ruined her perfect life. I didn't curse once in my response. Can't let that happen again. Shit damn fucking ass cock bitch cunt penis penis penis dick prick spam. Yeah, that covers it. You know, I really don't need to take your criticism. That's why I have friends. And, there won't be any lust-fucking of Buffy and Spike, although I hope this chapter was a good butt-fucking of Angel. What a prick. Anyhell, I haven't seen the Britney video because she is the spawn of Satan and Ashcroft, but that would be so nice to see her die. Well, love and kisses!  
  
Imzadi- I'm pretty much an evil person, seeing how I put the characters through all these shitty events. Yeah, I never thought that Buffy helped Willow the way Joyce helped Buffy. That's really cool! No, Lindsey will not prosecute Oz because Oz is bye-bye. He won't be back. Sorry. Yeah, I'm a whore, and no one likes me. Kinda like Cordelia, except not as cool.  
  
Comedia- Because of you and my goddamned sister, who kept complaining 'cause I was all hesitant of hurting Willow, almost all of my readers hate me. They are planning on bombing my car, poisoning my dinner, and putting itching powder in my undies. You are a stupid bitch, but I love you so much! Well, as much as a straight girl can. I have no desire to get into your pants, the way I want to for James Marsters and Orlando Bloom . . . wow, mind drifting away to some naughty place. Say hello to your husband and owl for me! 


	25. Done Waiting

**Disclaimer: I don't own Billie Letts' "Where the Heart Is", or Joss Whedon's "Buffy the Vampire Slayer. What, I can't always have a funny disclaimer, can I? Am I just here as a clown for your amusement? Let's just see who's the clown when you're wearing the funny nose and multicolored wig! Yeah, Bozo, what the fuck are you going to do then?  
  
Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language (and sex, finally).  
  
Author's Notes: Here it is! What everyone's been waiting for! Yes, ladies and germs, we have Spuffiness! All your pleas and threats have led to this chapter. Now, you must understand that this is the first time I have attempted a chapter such as this, so please keep your snarky comments to yourself. If it sucks, it is only because I have never written anything of this nature before. Hope you like, and don't tell me it's really bad!  
  
PS: The WB is evil, and I hope they never have a good series ever ever again.  
  
Dedication: This is for Emma, who beta-ed this for me. She took out the crappy stuff. Thanks babe!**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Five- Done Waiting**  
  
There were dark circles under her eyes.  
  
When was the last time she actually slept? It seemed like every night she would wake up, in a cold sweat that chilled her body despite the warm blankets she was curled under.  
  
No matter how cheery she acted around her family and friends, she couldn't lie to the mirror. It wouldn't fib.  
  
Blue eyes stared back at her, drained of all color.  
  
They wouldn't shut up. Every time she felt safe, they came back, screaming at her. No more peace.  
  
Outside, she looked like a corpse.  
  
Inside, she was already dead.  
  
Make it all equal. Make it as it should be.  
  
She was tired.  
  
It was time to rest.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
A phone call in the middle of the night is never good.  
  
When Buffy realized the ringing that brought her out of her dream was the phone, a cold chill ran down her spine. The possibilities ran through her head as she hesitantly picked up the receiver.  
  
_Xander's been shot.  
  
Tara's been in a car wreck.  
  
Clem, or Giles, had a heart attack.  
_  
The cold, tearstained voice on the other end confirmed her worst fear, and Buffy quickly promised to be there before hanging up. In the dark, at three in the morning, Buffy threw on a pair of shorts and a sweatshirt, then went to wake up Willow.  
  
With Aurora, still in her Piglet pajamas, sleeping in her mother's arms, the three went down the stairs, and into Willow's SUV. The car was completely silent, save for Aurora's snoring, as they drove the short distance to the library in the warm, summer evening.  
  
Bathed in the glow of flashing emergency lights, the library had lost all of its tranquil charm. A crowd was already gathered in the front lawn, watching the policemen and paramedics rush into and out of the large building.  
  
Willow pointed Xander out quickly, who was looking for them at the library's entrance. He quickly ushered the three inside.  
  
Xander guided Buffy to the reading room, where Meredith, Holden, and Sydney were fast asleep. She put Aurora down next to the children, covering her with the blankie Meredith was under.  
  
Slowly, she left the room. Over in the corner, Xander, Cordelia, Willow, and Tara were talking quietly, glancing at the cops that passed. Near the stairs, out of the way of the paramedics, were Anya and Giles.  
  
Anya and a cop were deep in conversation; her ability to talk during anything coming in handy, but Giles was sitting defeatedly on the bottom steps of the stairs, wearily resting his head on the banister.  
  
Not wanting to listen to the sorrid details, Buffy snuck over to the stairs. Giles caught her eye, but he only managed a tired nod as she went up.  
  
By the time she got to Drusilla's room, the doctors were already starting to pack up. The police were still there, photographing her doll collection, nightstand, and the bathroom where Drusilla had slit her wrists hours before. Buffy witnessed the paramedics zip up the black bag that contained the girl's cold, lifeless body.  
  
Everyone ignored her as she went inside, but she wasn't looking to talk with anyone in the room.  
  
Save the man sitting on the end of his sister's bed, holding a porcelain doll in his hands.  
  
Buffy sat beside Spike on the bed, watching him as he ran his fingers through the doll's pink silk dress. She recognized the doll as Miss Edith, Drusilla's favorite. She had brought her to Christmas, and used it to teach Aurora how to cradle a baby.  
  
He seemed to sense her presence when she sat down, but didn't make any move to greet her. The two just sat together, not speaking a word.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
"Rory, put your undies on."  
  
Grumbling, Aurora stood on her bed, wrestling with the butterfly panties her mommy handed to her. Her hair was still damp from the bath she had taken.  
  
Buffy combed through the girl's underwear drawer silently for a pair of stockings. There didn't seem to be a single one without a hole in it.  
  
"Did it," the girl exclaimed, and began hopping on the bed.  
  
"Aurora Rose Summers, you know the rule." Buffy didn't even have to turn around to know what her daughter was doing.  
  
The squeaking of the bed stopped.  
  
"Go get me your gray dress," instructed the blonde, finally finding a non- holey pair of stockings in the back of the drawer.  
  
The little girl was soon at her side, the small, dark gray dress in her hands. When Buffy had to buy Aurora a dress for Joyce's funeral months ago, she hadn't the heart to buy a black dress. Too depressing for a child.  
  
Helping with the first half of the buttons on her dress, Aurora stopped to play with the necklace her mommy was wearing.  
  
"You look pwetty, Momma," Aurora commented, looking at the black dress and heels Buffy wore.  
  
"Thank you, honey."  
  
Aurora grabbed her stuffed Cookie Monster doll, lying on the floor. "Cookie wants to go wif us."  
  
Buffy smiled a bit. "I don't think Cookie Monsters are allowed in churches."  
  
"That's discwimination!"  
  
Gasping, Buffy stared at her little girl a few seconds before bursting out with laughter. "You're too smart," she exclaimed. "I am banning Spike from letting you read anything else over your age limit!"  
  
There was a long pause as Buffy finished putting Aurora's dress on, the girl poking poor Cookie's eyes.  
  
"Spike's sad," the three-year-old sighed.  
  
Buffy paused. "Yes, he is."  
  
"'Cause Dwusilla goed away?"  
  
"Went away." Buffy had Aurora sit on her bed in order to put on her stockings. "Yes, he's sad because Drusilla went away."  
  
"Where'd she go?"  
  
Pursing her lips, Buffy thought about this. She wasn't particularly a religious person, and neither was Joyce, so the issue of beliefs had never been formally introduced to Aurora.  
  
"Some . . . place where she could rest, and not be sad," explained the blonde, grabbing a nearby brush and running through Aurora's dark locks.  
  
"She was sad a wot, huh?" asked Aurora.  
  
"Mmm-hmm."  
  
Aurora thought about this. "Did she go where Gramma Joyce goed?"  
  
"I think so, Rory."  
  
"And she's not coming back?"  
  
"No, baby."  
  
"Never ever?"  
  
Buffy shook her head. "Nope. But, we're going to miss her a lot, aren't we?"  
  
Very seriously, Aurora nodded in response.  
  
As Buffy stood up, she examined her daughter, making sure that she looked presentable.  
  
"OK, Rory-girl, time to go," Buffy ordered, holding out her hand to the child as they left the room.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
The sun was just setting when Buffy parked the jeep in front of the library. Slowly, she shut off the engine, and grabbed her purse before getting out.  
  
Nearly half of Sunnydale had turned out for Drusilla's memorial service. Most of them had never gotten to know the girl, but in some way, they had become friends with members of her family. At one point, before the minister began speaking, Buffy thought she saw Riley in the back of the church. Just in case it was him, she quickly hid her face.  
  
Drusilla wasn't going to be buried in Sunnydale. She had never become aquatinted with the town, and felt no real connection. Years earlier, she had explained that she would prefer to be taken back home to England, to rest beside her parents in the family plot.  
  
Tomorrow, her body would be flown overseas. Giles, Anya, and Spike would accompany her, and have a proper burial with the rest of their family.  
  
Giles was taking it hard. All throughout the funeral, he had been sobbing. Anya, who had been so strong throughout the ordeal, told Buffy that he blamed himself for her death. He couldn't even stay in the house. He and Anya rented a hotel room the evening Drusilla died, and had been sleeping there ever since.  
  
Xander and Cordelia were hosting a post-service gathering at their house after the funeral. Almost everyone had gone. Except for Buffy. Once the minister was done speaking, Buffy gave Aurora to Willow. She and Tara would take Aurora home after the gathering. Buffy didn't question the addition of Tara, who had been spending a lot of time at the house with Willow.  
  
Of everyone Buffy saw during the service, one particular person was absent. Buffy questioned Anya about it, but she was of no help. So, Buffy was searching for the missing bleached blond.  
  
The front door opened quietly as Buffy slipped inside. All the lights were out, and the police tape that had been strung through the parts of the library had been cleaned up.  
  
"Spike?" Buffy called out. The only response was her echo in the empty building.  
  
Upstairs was just as dark as downstairs, but she knew where to go. When she reached his bedroom door, she knocked softly.  
  
"Come in," the person on the other side quietly whispered.  
  
She turned the handle, and stuck her head into the room.  
  
Having never been in his room before, Buffy didn't know what it would look like. It had been decorated simplistically; the walls painted a dark gray tone. As she had expected, most of his furniture was black. Even the sheets on his bed. Again, she wasn't surprised to find a large bookshelf off in the corner, stuffed to the top with various novels and hardbound books. The piles of laundry on the floor equaled the piles of books.  
  
Spike sat on the end of his bed, his back facing the door as he stared out the window, dressed in slacks and a white button-up shirt. Flung to his side was his jacket and tie.  
  
Patiently, Buffy waited for him to turn around, which he did ever so slowly.  
  
"Hey," he sighed, his puffy, red eyes locking with hers. The dark shadow of stubble had consumed his jaw. "How'd you find me?"  
  
Buffy smiled. "Used my super powers of getting in a car and driving to the most obviously place."  
  
"Knew I should've hid in a cave." A tiny grin quickly appeared, and disappeared, on his face. "How was it?"  
  
Walking into the dark room, Buffy sat beside him on the bed, moving aside the coat and tie. "Well, Willow and Cordelia managed not to argue, and Xander didn't set anything on fire . . . well, except Clem's car . . ." She paused. "It was really nice. Missed you."  
  
"Yeah, well . . ." Groaning, he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes.  
  
"Just couldn't do it?"  
  
He shook his head in response. "Sorry."  
  
"Don't be sorry."  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, Buffy saw something pink lying on his nightstand. Miss Edith.  
  
"What are you doing here?" she asked the doll, picking her up.  
  
She barely caught the choked response from the man next to her.  
  
"Couldn't leave her alone."  
  
Placing the doll back on the nightstand, Buffy scooted closer to Spike, wrapping her arms around him. He was starting to shake.  
  
"Gave her that bloody thing the day she came back from the hospital after her accident," he cried, "And I told her that I would never let her get hurt again!"  
  
"Spike-"  
  
"No!" he snapped. "I didn't keep my promise! She was hurting, and I didn't see it!"  
  
Without thinking, Buffy pulled herself into his lap, holding him as he sobbed loudly.  
  
"This wasn't your fault. She wouldn't want you to blame yourself," she explained, running her hands soothingly up and down his back.  
  
They stayed like this until he slowly began to calm down. When he stopped shaking, Buffy removed her hands and placed them behind his head, beginning to pepper his face with soft kisses.  
  
His face was damp from his tears, so Buffy stopped momentarily and used her thumbs to wipe the moisture away. So in the moment of comforting, she leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his mouth, one that lasted longer than expected.  
  
_Oh! Bad!_ her mind scolded as she quickly pulled away. Wide, blue eyes stared into her own green, his mouth hanging slightly open.  
  
"I'm sorry," she muttered, ducking her head down. She felt so stupid, getting carried away.  
  
But, she suddenly felt fingers weave into her hair, tilting her face back up. The look on his face sucked the oxygen from her lungs. He was staring at her so passionately, so intensely, and so hungrily, she became a bit frightened.  
  
Before she could speak, he pulled her to him, crashing his lips on hers. After a moment of incredible shock for the woman, instinct took over. She responded, opening her mouth slightly to let his tongue in, moaning when it entered and lightly caressed hers.  
  
Their mouths danced as she tugged and pulled at his shirt while he tangled his fingers into her long, blonde hair. Suddenly, the need for air became too much for Buffy, and she pulled away, only to gasp when Spike began to nibble along the line of her jaw.  
  
"Spike!" she whimpered, trying to think straight while he snaked a hand under her dress. "M-maybe we s-s-shouldn't . . . Oh GOD!"  
  
And then, she was lying on the bed, wondering how she got on her back, and why she wasn't wearing her dress anymore.  
  
"You think too much, Summers," he muttered with a smirk, before leaning in once more to kiss her, all the while struggling to undo the clasp of her bra.  
  
_OK, shouldn't be doing this! Shit, he's a really great kisser . . . Oh, NO! No, this is very of the bad! He needs to stop! He needs to . . ._Buffy shot straight up, her mind suddenly becoming clear.  
  
"Whazza matter?" Spike asked, who halted his actions on her left breast.  
  
She pulled herself up, and grabbed the collar of his shirt.  
  
"Too. Many. Fucking. Clothes." She growled, hastily undoing his shirt buttons. That became an obstacle after the first three buttons, so she settled for pulling the article of clothing over his head, and pushing him roughly down to the bed.  
  
After years of knowing him, Buffy would never admit to finding him at all attractive. No matter how persistently her friends asked her, they'd have to resort to torture for her to say the words. But, seeing him lying on the bed, his smooth, pale skin set off against his hard body, his blond hair disheveled and sticking up on end as he gaped at her, she wondered why she hadn't jumped him sooner.  
  
Crawling up the length of his body, and stopping briefly to undo his fly and push his pants down, she once again attacked his mouth, her hands roaming over every inch of his body. His hands also began to explore, mirroring her own actions, but it wasn't enough for the two.  
  
Their gaze locked, and without asking or giving permission, they joined together. With a rhythm as steady as a heartbeat, they began to move, their focus on each other never breaking. Soon, Buffy fell over the edge, and Spike followed her. Locking hands, their screams echoed in the empty building.  
  
And, then it was done, and Buffy suddenly felt very tired. The events of the past few days had caught up with her, and she neglected to consider what she had done, unprotected, with her best friend. Collapsing on top of him, sleep hit her hard. So exhausted, she slipped away as she snuggled into him, resting her head on his bare chest. As her eyes shut, she thought she felt him release her hands, covering her with a sheet before wrapping his arm around her body. It would take her days to determine if what he whispered next was real, or simply a beautiful dream.  
  
"Been waiting three years to say this, Buffy. I love you."

* * *

Comedia- I'm planning as many people as possible, seeing how I'm a sociopath (see, that's psych learning! I'm so smart). Trying to help? Oh, please, you couldn't help a mime out of a plastic bag! Wow . . . don't know where that came from? Anyway, I'll see you in a bit! And, I don't wrestle, I fucking beat bitches up!  
  
Nimacu- Well, thank you darling. Hope you enjoy this chapter!  
  
Sokkerblondie005- Oh, I bet you like this chapter! You're probably in the process of sending me some death threat-ish review, all about how much Spike sucks, and how Angel is the best. Sticks and stones, honey, sticks and stones. I haven't seen "The Next of Kin" because I watch good movies. Kidding. No, Lorne was not a demon, because there are no demons in this world. C'mon, bring on the nasty review! I'll be waiting!  
  
Chrestomanci- You get one review for your two, seeing how lazy I am. Yes, Lorne is from Pylea, I don't care what you say about Willow, and Angel is such a bastard. Does that cover it? Well, I have a story for you: Once upon a time, there was this girl named Cathy. She was not really nice, and hit little children in the head with nickels. Then, one day, the cops came and took her to jail. The end. Good story, huh? Love you much!  
  
Zanthinegirl- Sorry about that mistake. That was my assumption, but I'm neither a doctor nor have I had children. I hope. Anyway, glad you liked, and keep reading.  
  
Lurking-in-the-shadows- Don't worry, Angel will feel very guilty about what he does to Buffy (SPOILER) if he can feel! Ha, just got you hooked, didn't I? Well, read to find out what the fuck I was talking about, because I sure as hell don't.  
  
Mita427- You approve of my Angel butt-fucking? Oh, thank the lord! I was so scared that you would find my writing pathetic and childlike . . . nah, I lie. I care about as much as I do for the WB, now that they took Angel off the air. I have, actually, played the penis game, you stupid whore. I used to play it in the cafeteria of my high school, until a teacher told me to shut the fuck up, or else she'd go 16th Century on my ass. I told the bitch to step off, then I capped her in the ass. Love ya!  
  
Randy Braden- Sorry if I came off a little hostile too. Didn't mean to. God, I love Seth Green so much, especially as the "homeboy" in Can't Hardly Wait. He is so brilliant. I just happen to like WT more than WO. How about WOT for compromise? Nah, that's just downright scary. Keep reading, and I'll promise to be good later on.  
  
Imzadi- Why did Lorne kill Lindsey? That was such a shock! I bet you were screaming at the TV like a mad girl. Anyway, I think Lindsey is gone for good in this story as well. No legal work is needed, except for Angel's lame attempt to get his songs back. But, Lindsey would win that case, and that can't happen. So, Lindsey will just live in Los Angeles with Lilah, winning cases and screwing Lilah. The day after I finish this story, I'll post another MRV chapter. I promise on my BtVS season six copy, which will soon be mine.  
  
Celestria16- I was gonna begin this reply with a note saying my LJ link was posted on my author page, but you found it without me, you smart girl! I've been checking out yours too, and you're nutso with the graphics, but it's funny! Angel knows he has a child. He was just shocked that this memory came back to him. It's so sad, but he needs to be kicked in the balls a little more. Well, tah tah. 


	26. Not In That Way

**Disclaimer: I don't own Billie Letts' "Where the Heart Is", or Joss Whedon's "Buffy the Vampire Slayer. What, I can't always have a funny disclaimer, can I? Am I just here as a clown for your amusement? Let's just see who's the clown when you're wearing the funny nose and multicolored wig! Yeah, Bozo, what the fuck are you going to do then?  
  
Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language (and sex, finally).  
  
Author's Notes: I've discovered the way to get lots of reviews: Make the characters have sex! Whoo, and did I get a lot! You guys just went nuts. Although I did get one very angry review from a Bangel fan (hey Sokkerblondie005), and a bunch of you upset over the grief leading to sex things, all in all I think people were happy. Well, if you know me well, I don't like it when people are happy. MUHAHAHAHAHAHA (rubs hands together evilly)! Kisses to all, and I expect an equal number of angry reviews this time around.  
  
PS: The WB is evil, and I hope they never have a good series ever ever again.**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Six- Not In That Way  
**  
The next few days, Buffy found herself in a continuous fog. She ordered three dozen prints of watercolor tiger lilies, drank lemonade instead of water, and would get lost on her way home from the gallery. One time, she spent the entire afternoon making so many sugar cookies, almost all of them would have to be wrapped up later by Willow and given away to friends, or hidden in the freezer. She didn't even notice the daze she was in, until she spent half an hour trying to get into her car, only to realize it wasn't hers.  
  
At first, she suspected it was a summertime flu, a light attack that was going away slowly. But when she woke up at three in the morning to watch "Gone with the Wind" on cable TV, she wondered if her problems were much bigger.  
  
"Honey," Willow replied with a nudge, "You're just in love."  
  
Buffy didn't believe it. She went to the hospital and had tests performed on her, one of which was a pregnancy test in case her little . . . well, just in case. They all came back negative.  
  
"That's the way it feels," Tara explained, the corners of her mouth softly turning up when Buffy explained her symptoms. "Like, when you walk, your feet don't touch the ground, and your head is miles above it, stuck in the clouds."  
  
She had been that way ever since that morning. Snuggling into a pillow, she just felt so content and relaxed. Then, blind panic hit when she remembered what had happened with Spike, followed by anger when she found the bed and room empty.  
  
"The little bastard . . ." she growled, seeing red as she looked around for her missing clothes, remembering similar actions years ago. But, all of her rage slipped away when she found a note on the nightstand, written hurriedly on the back of a plane ticket holder.  
  
_Buffy-  
  
Sorry I didn't wake you, luv. You looked so peaceful, I didn't have the heart.  
  
Gotta go catch my plane. Rupes and Awn will be here soon, and I don't want to deal with their inane questions if they catch you in my bed.  
  
Well, I'll talk to you when I'm home. Miss you.  
  
Spike  
  
P.S.: Tell the Bit I'll miss her, too, and that she needs to finish "Horton Hatches an Egg" and "House on Pooh Corner" before I get back._  
  
It had left her so happy, she didn't care about the looks Willow and Tara (who had stayed the night) gave her when she came home early in the morning, obviously wearing her dress from the day before, or the shared smiles and snide comments when they asked where she'd been. And, she ignored the ribbing from Xander and Cordelia when they were informed about her actions.  
  
But, the good feelings didn't last. When she replayed the actions in her head, which she did many times a day and in inappropriate situations, she questioned her motives. Why exactly had she slept with Spike?  
  
Lust? OK, she'd admit that he could turn her on. A lot. Also, it could have been because she had been very, very horny after her self-instated abstinence from men. But, what she had felt that night was above hormones and sex drives.  
  
Pity? He was in a bad place, so could it have been because she felt sorry for him? Never. If she had offered to detail his car, then she would have suspected pity.  
  
Spur of the moment? A shared intelligence lapse for both of them? Sure, the sex was extremely unexpected, but it was obvious to her and everyone else that it was bound to happen some day.  
  
So, what was it?  
  
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "He's wonderful to you, treats you like a goddess, and adores your daughter. Hell, he delivered her for you! The guy worships the fucking earth you walk on. And he's a major hottie. Just admit that you have very un-friendly feelings for Spike!"  
  
Did she?  
  
Did she love him?  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Sunday breakfast at the Magic Box was something that occurred randomly throughout the year, whenever everyone could wake up early enough to miss the tide of customers who came in for lunch. They would all sit outside, basking in the early morning sun as they dined on whatever goodies the kitchen whipped up.  
  
Buffy sat at one end of the table, sandwiched between Xander and Aurora. Juggling eating her own plate of buttermilk-oatmeal pancakes and getting Rory to eat her eggs, she listened to Giles and Anya tell all about their trip.  
  
They had gotten home on Friday, exhausted from the physical journey, and the emotional toll. The service for Drusilla had been a traditional one, attended by both sides of the family and many others. As soon as they tastefully could, Giles and Anya went home. Spike, on the other hand, was going to stick around for a while to make sure everything was in order.  
  
Everyone was laughing as Anya described a dinner with the both sides of Spike and Dru's family.  
  
". . . The maitre-d was leading William's aunt away, but she still had Rupert's sister's bag stuffed in her blouse! Samantha jumps out of her chair, tackles the woman to the ground, and just reaches her hand right in! Except, when she pulls her hand out, she's holding the woman's bra!"  
  
With tears streaming down their faces, Willow and Xander collapsed to the table, trying to regain some much-needed breath. Cordelia and Tara were also laughing, only not as hard. Giles just sat in his chair, polishing his glasses as he tried hard not to chuckle.  
  
Absently, Buffy smiled, wiping Rory's runny nose, her mind thousands of miles away.  
  
The door to the kitchen swung open, and Hallie, Anya's main chef sauntered out, carrying a pitcher of juice to re-fill the glasses.  
  
"So, Rupert," Hallie began, her curly brown hair swaying from side to side as she glided around the table, "You going back to the library?"  
  
Giles nodded. Since he and Anya came home, they had been staying at the hotel. He wasn't ready to go back just yet.  
  
"Oh, I guess it's going to be pretty lonely there, what with Drusilla gone, and William in London." Hallie pushed a curl behind her ear, grabbing an empty plate on the table.  
  
Buffy came crashing back to earth. "What?"  
  
Confused, Giles stared at the brunette chef. "No, Will's only in London for a week or two. He's not staying."  
  
Hallie cocked her head to the side. "Why?"  
  
Biting her lip, Buffy focused on her nails, trying hard not to look too interested in the conversation. She and everyone else decided to keep Giles and Anya in the dark about her and Spike, until the two could talk about what happened.  
  
"I just thought that William would get back to his education once Drusilla . . . well, isn't that what he wants to do?" continued Hallie.  
  
"Actually-" Anya interjected, only to be interrupted by her employee.  
  
"Isn't that what Lord and Lady Hordwidge want?"  
  
Finally, Buffy had to speak up. "Lord and Lady who?"  
  
Anya turned to her. "Spike's grandparents on his mother's side."  
  
"Lord and Lady?" Buffy asked, her mouth almost dropping open.  
  
Nodding, Anya continued. "Yep. Noble assholes who claim they can trace their line past the Crusades. Bunch of pompous, arrogant bigots who don't want their grandchildren 'associating with common people'." She spat out the words like they were made of vinegar.  
  
"My side isn't all that wonderful, either," grumbled Giles, spearing a melon cube with his fork.  
  
Groaning, Anya patted his arm in sympathy. "Yep, all the Gileses are soulless, save for my guy here, Will, Dru, and their parents. They're an industrial family. Most of them have never worked a single day, except to complain about their inheritance. I bet that when Frederick and Amelia got together, their wedding basically invited the demons of Hell and the Nazi party to come and eat cake. And, that's only the families."  
  
"So Spike's, like, a Lord?" Buffy bet her eyes were as big as the plates Hallie was clearing.  
  
"No, William's cousin Colin, a right prick if I may say so, will inherit the title," Giles explained. "Will just receives a trust fund, pending on if he finished college."  
  
"Didn't you know this?" Xander whispered into Buffy's ear when Giles turned his attention to another question of Hallie's.  
  
Buffy shook her head. "I think my mouth gaping open is a clear sign of me NOT knowing this," she whispered back. Looking around the table, she noticed that no one else seemed phased by this information. In fact, they all looked rather bored, like they had heard this before.  
  
Hallie was finished picking up plates, so she headed back towards the kitchen. "At least William can leave here and be someone," she sighed when she reached the door. "Now he can get on with his life."  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Those words echoed in her head. Days went by, and every time she thought of him, there was a little tag ending.  
  
_Now he can get on with his life._  
  
It was three in the afternoon, and she had been sitting in the backyard with Willow, talking while Aurora played, when the phone rang. The conversation was short, and when she hung up, she told the redhead she needed to go out for a while. Nodding, it was clear Willow understood who was on the phone, but her eyes were shining with excitement. She thought that finally, after all these years, her two friends would get together.  
  
Buffy hadn't told anyone about her decision, but it had been made two weeks earlier at the Magic Box. She had lived for too long in the real world to know what would happen. The only place she, the bastard child of an absentee mother and God-knows-who, the girl who dropped out of school and got knocked up at seventeen, and Spike, who had an respected and wealthy heritage, who had a future, could be together was in her imagination.  
  
Once again, Buffy walked into the empty library. Giles was with Anya at the Magic Box, so it could be done without interruption. The walk up to his room seemed to take an eternity, but that's what she wanted: a few last moments to pretend it could turn out better.  
  
He was waiting for her in his room, unpacking his bag when she pushed the door open. His hair was still wet from his shower, and he was beaming when she came in. He came over to her, standing around ungracefully while they tried to figure out how to greet each other, until he finally pulled her into a hug.  
  
"Told you I'd miss you," he whispered. She simply closed her eyes, memorizing how he felt holding her.  
  
_God, he smells nice.  
_  
"Missed you too." Pulling her arms away, she took a step back.  
  
Spike turned to sit on the bed, making room for her too. But, she opted to sit on his desk chair, across from him. If he noticed, he didn't point it out.  
  
"Did the Bit finish her books?"  
  
"Yeah, and you can cross 'Anne of Green Gables' and one of the Harry Potter books off your list."  
  
A smirked curled at his lips. "That's my girl. Gonna have her reading 'War and Peace' by the third grade."  
  
"She shouldn't be reading books too advanced for her age," Buffy admonished, though smiling.  
  
"I'm keeping her outta trouble. S'not doing heroin or coke with the other four-year-olds, is she?"  
  
They laughed, but fell once more into an awkward silence.  
  
"So . . ." he began, running a hand through his hair.  
  
"How was London?" she interrupted.  
  
"Good. Couldn't believe I hadn't been there since high school. Was gonna go to college there."  
  
"I know. Whaddya do?"  
  
He shrugged. "Pissed around. Hung with some old pals. Saw the family, wankers they are. Ended up wandering around, seeing the sights. Beautiful place, it is."  
  
Trailing off, there was once more silence in the room. Buffy wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach.  
  
"Buffy-"  
  
"Why are you here, Spike?"  
  
Her question caught him off guard, but his eyes began to twinkle with his familiar evil glint.  
  
"Well, 'bout twenty-six years ago, my parents got very horny . . ."  
  
This time, she didn't laugh. She was done fooling around.  
  
"Why are you back in Sunnydale?"  
  
Frowning, he raised an eyebrow at her. "Because it's my home. All the people I love are here. Rupes, the Bit, you . . ."  
  
"But what about school? Isn't that something you use to love?"  
  
"Yeah, I used to. Now that's changed. Found something better to love."  
  
"So, you're just going to stay here, working in the library, when you could do something better?"  
  
She could tell he was worried when he kneeled in front of her, cupping her face with his hands.  
  
"Buffy, what's going on?"  
  
Disentangling herself from his caring hands, she stood up, crossing to the other side of the room.  
  
"Spike . . . I . . ." The words were so hard to get out. "I think we made a mistake."  
  
"A mistake?" He blinked a few times, as if this weren't real.  
  
"Yeah." She shrugged, pretending to brush it off. "I . . . we did something stupid, and . . ."  
  
"Wait a bloody moment!" Standing up, it took him a few steps to stand right in front of her. "How could it be a mistake? I love you, and you . . ." There was a pause as he thought it out. "Do you love me, Buffy?"  
  
Reaching out, she rested her hand on his cheek. "Of course I love you. You're my best friend. You delivered Aurora in the middle of a Wal-Mart for me!"  
  
Suddenly, the scared little boy he resembled snapped, freezing over quicker than Buffy could blink.  
  
"I don't mean that 'love-you-like-a-brother' shit! Do. You. Love. Me?" His voice was dark, low and menacing.  
  
"Spike . . ." Timidly, she backed away towards the door a bit. "I just think it was a mistake."  
  
"A mistake?" He laughed coolly. "So, what? My dick just slipped into your panties? Or, was this just a pity thing? 'I feel sorry for you, let's shag'?"  
  
Shaking her head, she could feel the tears begin to well in her eyes. "No, I would never do that to you," she replied, sounding very much like a child.  
  
"Oh, I know. Just helping to scratch an itch, right? You needed someone to fuck that night, didn't matter who it was." He began to clench and un- clench his fists, his jaw twitching as he glared down at her.  
  
"Why are you saying these things?"  
  
"Because I want to know! GOD FUCKING HELL! DO YOU LOVE ME?"  
  
For the first time since meeting him in the library all those years ago, he screamed at her, not holding back anything. Even that day, when he yelled at her for not knowing what was wrong with her beloved rose tree, he had restrained some of it. But, he was through worrying about other people's feelings.  
  
It took everything in her not to collapse on the floor, to admit all of her doubts while sobbing uncontrollably, and tell him what she had been unable to tell others.  
  
_Yes, Spike, I love you so much.  
_  
_. . . he is such an intelligent young man. Everyone in town thought he would go to some prestigious college after graduation, because he could really be anything he wanted. But, he has certain responsibilities at home, and he feels that he need to care for these issues before he moves on.  
  
. . . I guess that I'm all she has. Sure, we have other family and friends to help out, but I'm her brother. It's in my job description to protect her. And if that means waiting a long time to finish school, then I can wait.  
  
. . . now he can get on with his life._  
  
Locking her gaze with his, she shook her head.  
  
"No, Spike. I don't love you. Not in the way you need to be loved. Not in that way."

* * *

Celestria16: When I read your review about the lj, I just laughed, but hey, we're all stupid in our own special way! You said shagging five times. Buffy can't get knocked up by Spike at this moment, seeing how I just ruined their relationship times ten. God, I get you guys all happy, then I take it away. No, we're not at a see Angel point, but it's gonna happen. Sorry that I don't follow up the shagging with more shagging.  
  
Imzadi- Yeah, I dragged the sex out a long time, and it was pretty weird that death inspires them to do the nasty. But you gotta think that it was a long time coming. That whole shooting him thing was entirely unexpected, but just because someone is dead in the Buffyverse doesn't mean they're gone for good. Just look at fucking Harmony. That bitch never goes away!  
  
Chrestomanci- Well, excuse me for making the smut go quickly. If I dragged it out any longer, not only would this story probably be qualified as an NC- 17 fic, but you'd also be in my room, panting for more because I am that good. Oh yeah, did it get weird enough for you, moon face? Tee hee hee.  
  
Semajyrrah- I have continued, good person. Please keep reading and hating what I do to the characters.  
  
Comedia- Oh god, it's not like you haven't read it before! You came up to me after I sent it to you, and was all, "Well, it was good, but there were some parts that were just . . . yish! I fixed it." But, I just have to say that I couldn't have done it without you, or my Spikebot to practice it with.  
  
Samolly- Best chapter ever? You mean, better than the chapter in "Pride and Prejudice" where Darcy admits his love for Elizabeth? Wow, I rock that much! Whoo hoo! It was fun driving people crazy, and getting all those "Spuffy PLEASE!" comments. I'm a very bad person, aren't I?  
  
Sokkerblondie005- I can't hear you. I can't hear you. Spuffy is good. I can't hear you. I bet your eyeballs melted the moment you read the part where Buffy kisses that good, sweet, sexy Spike. Ha! Yeah, I've gotten a lot of comments about how grieving should not involve sex. In all truthfulness, the one thing that should not involve sex is taking trash to the dump. You get all dirty, and havta take a shower . . . wait, that's what sex is all about! Nevermind, you can have sex anywhere, doing anything (or anyone). But, there will only be Spike do-age in this story. Oh, and your flames? I threw Angel on them because he is a pansy and has stupid hair. I still love you, though.  
  
Lurking-in-the-shadows- Yeah, we didn't get to know Dru enough before I killed her. That really sucks. But I'm happy that lots of people miss her and feel sad for her. Yah! I write good sex stuff! Well, it all comes from reading a whole bunch of Spuffy smut for years. I really don't know how I lived without it. "It's like cigarettes. Just when I thought I'd quit." :)  
  
Cali- Well, I haven't been a busy writer this week, you know, with Memorial Day weekend and finals coming up. I guess I'm one of those writers who like to mess with people, seeing how the three chapters you reviewed for were all kinda depressing with people getting hurt, killed, and fired. Even though Angel deserved it 100%. The prick. You know, Buffy should know better than to have sex sans condom, but she's not that bright. And, you were right in your prediction that this chapter wouldn't have hugs and puppies.  
  
CraZy4SpikE09- 25 chapters in one day! You totally rock! Yeah, it took me long enough to get with the Spuffy, didn't it? You cried for Spike when Dru died? Aah, that's so sweet. He's an awesome character, and needs a bunch of hugs and Buffy sex. Well, wrong timing or not, I think people would go nutso if I didn't get with the smut. Thanks for the over compliments. They have made me very happy and pig-headed.  
  
I'm drowning in footwear- Why don't you and Emma start the "No 6 Months" club, and have weekly meetings where you hate Lauren and scold Vaughn for his stupid marriage. Oh, and if you show this to mom, just imagine all the horrible things I will do to you. I fucking threw you on the ground for borrowing my shirt. Love you lots!  
  
Mita427- Don't hate me because I killed Dru! Oh . . . (starts pacing). If you want someone to blame, blame Billie Letts! It's all her fault. I just reread your "It fucks" comment, and almost spit water all over my computer screen! That was so funny! Thank god for spell check, because I kant spel for krap. Well, you guessed kinda right on the whole break up thing. Spike still loves Buffy, and she only broke it up for him. Don't hate me, and say I suck (or fuck). Don't you want a happy ending? Well, we need conflict that makes everyone angry! And no porno sex . . . for now.  
  
Psychovampgurl- God, that sucks majorly! Your guy printed out fan fic for you to read? Wow. Hon, he's a keeper! Is there ever a normal relationship between Buffy characters? No, because no one can be happy until the end. That's the way life is, except we don't end with the whole "Once More with Feeling" curtain kiss. By the way, wasn't that just the hottest thing in all existence? Whoo. I think that our No Homework party should feature that scene played over and over, to emphasize the importance of television in the development of . . . brains. I found some strippers, but they're charging way too much, so I think we should try to find magicians. Whoo magic . . . is fun. Love ya too!  
  
Kori hime- Yeah, you probably saw the movie. It stars Natalie Portman, Ashley Judd, and the wonderful and amazing Stockard Channing. If you haven't seen it, I recommend it, because it's so good. You're another 25- chapters-in-one-day person? I love you people!  
  
Sba- Well, I just made it go bad, like the real plot. Don't hate me, because it needs to happen so everyone can be happy in the end. I'll try to write faster, what with summer coming soon. Keep on reading.  
  
Spufette- I think you put into words how heartbreaking and dear that chapter was. God, I'm a smart-ass! Hope you weren't too mad at this little twist in the story.  
  
Jo- It's a fab story! Like, the Fab Four . . . or Five. Well, something happened to Buffy and Spike in this chapter too, only not so happy and sexy. Sorry to keep you waiting! 


	27. Losing It All

**Disclaimer: I don't own Billie Letts' "Where the Heart Is", or Joss Whedon's "Buffy the Vampire Slayer. What, I can't always have a funny disclaimer, can I? Am I just here as a clown for your amusement? Let's just see who's the clown when you're wearing the funny nose and multicolored wig! Yeah, Bozo, what the fuck are you going to do then?  
  
Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language, and the sex.  
  
Author's Notes: Well, it's been almost a month. Sorry I haven't updated sooner. I got out of school the week I last posted, and just as I got home, I had to start my summer job. God, I hate it. It's a full time data processing job. It's really boring, and I just go numb thinking about it goes numb. So, being all wrapped up in that, and with the whole moving back home and unpacking and seeing my friends, it's been a little hectic. But, because I had the day off (thank you, Mr. Government), I decided to get back in the swing of things. This chappy does not advance the Spuffy plot anything, but we reach the climax (heh) of one of the lesser ones. Also, I hope I don't get kicked out of FF for writing a very angry response to a flame reviewer, but c'est la vie! Much love!  
  
PS: The WB is evil, and I hope they never have a good series ever ever again.**

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**Chapter Twenty-Seven- Losing It All**  
  
The kids behind them, a group of stupid college brats wearing expensive cowboy hats and boots, were getting on his nerves. They had came into the bar around two, teasing each other as they ordered a round of beers. Retreating to the pool table, right near the barstool he claimed hours before, they began a not-so-serious pool game, alternating between ordering beers and playing stupid songs on the old jukebox.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of them, the tallest and probably the drunkest, head over to the jukebox, pop in a quarter, and select another retarded pop-country song he so despised.  
  
But, as soon as the first three chords slowly poured out, he immediately knew just what that bastard had selected.  
  
"One more," Angel bitterly ordered from the bartender, trying hard to ignore the tune he knew by heart, but no longer possessed. "A Place Called Home", sung by Lewis Andrews.  
  
Glory's reputation had been entirely upheld the moment she left Angel's hotel room. His apartment and car were repossessed the next morning, and he lost all of his concert gigs later that afternoon. His backup band was gone by evening.  
  
Angel immediately hired an army of lawyers, who not only claimed breech of contract on Glory's part, but also argued the ownership of Angel's songs. But, Glory had probably written the contract expecting Angel would try to leave. It was iron clad, and so there was no way to fight it.  
  
By the time Angel accepted his loss, he had spent most of his already depleted savings on the trial. His bank account was nearly empty. He needed money quickly, and had a feeling that he could get re-signed with another company if he just began playing. The band he got together wasn't as good, but they could learn the songs quickly. After a week of practicing, they began touring the various bars in the west.  
  
Then, he started calling the record companies. Each and every phone call, it would end with them hanging up on him. Even Lorne Pylea, who had been very interested not two months earlier, wouldn't return his phone calls. Apparently, Glory **did** have the clout, and she was using it to screw him over just a bit more.  
  
The band lasted a month. Both the bassist and drummer were picked up for heroin possession, and the rhythm guitarist decided to leave music all together and join his father in the brake repair business.  
  
He had no band, no song inspiration at all, and only three hundred dollars. Using half of it to buy a piece of shit car, he began to drive around, trying to find some way to get more money. He had spent most of his life poor. But, he had never had to live it just after having everything he wanted.  
  
Angel found comfort in alcohol. While all those who had gotten to know him as Liam abandoned him, liquor had always been a true friend, even in those early years before the mess of jail. It comforted him, warmed him from the inside when the nights were cold, and let him ride out of his pitiful existence, even if for a moment.  
  
Some nights, he'd fantasize about how he'd do it differently, how he'd get Glory to change her mind. It was something different every night. He might start begging, groveling at her feet until she understood how in debt he was to her. Or, he'd unwilling try to seduce her. Sure, she was good looking enough, had the appearance of an inner skank, so it might work.  
  
But on the nights when it was really bad, when he had no place to sleep, no money for food, gas, or booze, he always see himself stepping aside right when she kicked him in the balls. She would fall forward, and as she stumbled he would grab her neck, wrapping his fingers around the soft flesh, wondering whether to start squeezing or . . .  
  
His forehead hit the counter, smacking him out of his favorite dream. Having no idea if he almost passed out, or if he was just tired, Angel chugged the rest of the beer down, not wanting to waste it if he did indeed passed out. It would be a while before he could get drunk again like this. His money was gone, and he would probably have to start pawning things.  
  
"A Place Called Home" entered the bridge; the moment in the song Angel felt was his finest accomplishment. It had been written in a dream, and Angel felt he had been lucky to remember the sweet and melancholy part when he had woken the next morning.  
  
In a sudden wave of anger, Angel threw his beer mug at the jukebox, shattering the glass plate and effectively shutting the song off.  
  
Blankly, the college kids stared at him, all of them acting as if he was crazy.  
  
Angel hunched down again, and attempted to order another beer from the bartender, who was preparing to throw him out.  
  
"Hate the song," he muttered.

* * *

_"Can you feel it?"_ Her voice had been soft, barely a whisper as she pressed his hand into her round stomach. _"Can you feel it?"_  
  
"Wake up!"  
  
He felt something smack him across the head, startling out of his exhausted passed-out state.  
  
"I don't feel it!" he screamed.  
  
Trying to clear the sleep out of his eyes, he stared at the woman next to him. It all came back to him quickly: His car had broken down, she was giving him a ride, and they were heading to Arizona.  
  
She looked pissed, and a little confused at his outburst.  
  
"Don't feel what?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
Angel shrugged, and began searching for his three-quarters empty bottle of Jack. Usually, he'd keep the bottle with his guitar in its case, but that had been pawned off a week ago. The girl (he wasn't even going to pretend to remember her name) was waiting for an answer, but only rolled her eyes when Angel found the bottle, and quickly drank the amber liquid.  
  
"Where the fuck are we?"  
  
Rolling her eyes again, the girl pointed out a diner nearly twenty yards away. She had parked the car in the nearby gravel parking lot.  
  
"I'm hungry. Want anything?"  
  
Turning away, Angel took another drink.  
  
"You have some money," she continued, "You just sold that piece of shit guitar."  
  
Earlier that morning, Angel finally had to pawn his most beloved possession, the guitar he'd received in prison. That had gotten him his first real career, and he held onto it, knowing it might bring him luck again. But, food (or at least JD) was more important than keeping his wild fantasies, and he had given it away for thirty dollars, along with a pair of stingray skin cowboy boots Liam Sloane had performed in during a Nashville concert.  
  
The girl waited one more minute, then opened the car door and walked out. After walking about a few feet, she turned around quickly and went back, pulling the car keys out of the ignition. She had her suspicions about him.  
  
Angel watched the girl go into the diner, and felt the sudden urge to piss in his haze. He struggled with the doorknob for a bit, but was able to stumble out; clutching the bottle like it was an extension of his hand. Tripping more than he was walking, he walked towards the back of the diner, where he could pee without anyone from the highway seeing him.  
  
When he was able to unzip his fly and remove his dick from his pants, he peed against the back door of the diner. He was shocked to discover how much it hurt to pee, but wasn't able to stop the stream of lava-hot liquid from leaving his body.  
  
_"Can you feel it?"_  
  
He snapped his head up. The voice was back, and he forgot all about where he was and what he was doing.  
  
_"Can you feel it?"_  
  
Angel could clearly remember how her eyes lit up with wonder as she pressed his two fingers into her stomach. Her mouth had formed a little O shape, something he had long ago found adorable.  
  
"Feel what, dammit?" Angel screamed at his memory, stumbling away, not knowing where he was going.  
  
_"Can't you feel that little 'thump . . . thump . . . thump'? That's where the baby's heart is."_  
  
She wouldn't leave him alone. Everytime he fell asleep, or passed out, she was there waiting for him. And he was sick of it.  
  
Blindly, he tripped over a hard piece of metal lying on the ground, and his forehead struck a rock. Blood immediately poured from the cut.  
  
"NO! I DON'T FEEL IT! LEAVE ME ALONE!"  
  
He started to crawl, as if he could escape the memory, but she stayed with him. The muscles in his arms gave up unexpectedly, and he lay against another piece of metal, train tracks. Replaying that final moment with her, he ignored the sound of a train whistle that was gradually getting louder.  
  
_"That's where the baby's heart is . . ."_  
  
When Angel finally came to hours later, he was alone in a sterile section of an emergency room, staring at the remainder of his right arm, severed at the elbow.  
  
He wouldn't be able to play again. He had nothing.  
  
He actually had nothing.

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Mita427- Actually, I hate reviews. I don't like being bothered by people telling me how much they like the story. So, for the ending, I'm going to let Buffy die in a horrible car crash, Spike get married to Harmony (whom he meets in London) and have a lot of babies with her, and end it all with a chapter of Dawn/Angel sex! Nah, I'm kidding! That would totally suck. No, you don't need porn! Just watch "Smashed" or "Gone" a few times, and you'll feel right as rain. Hmmm, how can rain feel right? Anyway, I'm know I'm not a loser! Not when I've got an incredible collection of Buffy DVDs and read/write fan fiction based on it! No, I'm awesome! Luv ya much!  
  
Celestrial6- Oww! Don't kick my ass! I'll be good! I promise! Buffy's just doing what she thinks is right, which isn't always correct. Kinda like the end of Spiderman 2 (you'll understand if you've seen it). God, I'm really a geek. No, there couldn't be a break up shag, because I would get all depressed, and I want people to know it's over (at least for now . . . duh duh DUH). Besides, when Spike is all sad and hurt and almost-cryie, don't you wanna just pick him up, hug him and kiss him lots, and THEN shag him? See.  
  
Kori Hime- Sorry your computer got all fucked up! I'd die if I was unable to go online just because the stupid piece of crap was broken. Kinda really evil, aren't I? Just when you'd thought I'd gotten the two lovebirds together, I rip them apart. Muhahahaha! You need to join Psychovampgurl and I on our "Homework Protest". Even though it's kinda silly to do it now that it's summer, and we have no homework, we are still planning. We even have magicians. Or strippers. One or the other.  
  
Lurking-in-the-shadows- See, you understand! She's trying to do what she thinks is right, not what she really wants! She finally (kinda) has what she's always wanted in life, so why should she deny him? Ooh, poor girl! I won't taunt her (or the readers) with a nice, little sex dream. It'd just get her all horny, and then she'll turn to Riley and make another baby. Ewww! And, even if angst is annoying, it can be good. Thanks much!  
  
Imzadi- Buffy wasn't thinking! If she was, she'd just hop into bed with everyone's favorite vampire, have nasty sex, and then make babies with him. Not with Riley or Angel, because they're all . . . ick. What would Lindsey do for her if she went to him? She couldn't sleep with him? No, he'd have Buffy sue Spike, and when they all went to court, and the judge asked why she was suing him, Lindsey would stand up and say, "Because, your honor, the defendant stole my client's heart!" Cue the big kiss scene, Lindsey goes off and puts on his bulletproof vest, and everyone's happy. And, Lindseylas just fell asleep besides a pond, Kateblossom by his side.  
  
Shizuka Slytherin Tsukino- Buffy is an idiot, isn't she? Well, hopefully (why am I saying that when I know exactly how the story will end) it'll all work out. Heh. Thanks for the review!  
  
Pyschovampgurl- Here's a piece of advice: except if JM himself comes to your door and asks you to make babies with him (I've said that about four times in this post today), stay with your guy. He sounds awesome. I don't watch the movie every time I make a chapter. I've watched it a bunch of times, and about three months ago, I read the book to get make sure my story was straight. Thanks for saying that! Yeah, they guy who plays Forney (the Spike character) isn't all that yummy, and it would be a hell of a lot cooler if JM was in it! Woot! I think we may have another homework protester. Kori Hime hates that crap about as much as us, so she might want to help organize. Actually, we should get the Amazing Jonathan (not BtVS one) to be our magician. He's a comedian, and makes his magic tricks really funny! Although the tiger guys (Sigfried and Roy) are OK, I don't think they'd fit in, especially with the sequined costumes.  
  
Sokkerblondie005- Sticks and stones may break my bones, but say that Spike isn't hot and I'll come after you with a chainsaw all "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" like! Does the ghetto snap And, Spike is only beneath Buffy when he . . . you know, I'm not going to finish that statement. I'll let you fill in the blank (muhahaha). I am sticking with a ship (Spuffy), but this is the point of angst to make everyone all angry, except you because you hate it. Oh, and a "for the road" Bangel= VOMIT! EEEWWW! I may be a ho, but at least I am in control of this story, so you will fear me, bi-atch! But, there is only love in this review, even if Angel is a pansy (which means girly, so it fits Angel to a T). Kisses.  
  
Iselyn- Hee hee hee! You were yelling at imaginary characters! Giggles Don't deny it! You were yelling at Buffy for being all stupid. I know it! I know it! I bet, when you got to the end, you imagined walking up to Buffy, smacking her across the head, yelling what you wrote in the review, and making her go back to Spike's bedroom to "talk". Don't lie. Muhahaha! Much love.  
  
Comedia- Kinda sad that I can't run across the hall and tell you I'm posting! Cries And I'm done. Yeah, you know how I've said it's going to end, but I don't always keep my promises. New York! Goulet.  
  
Chrestomanci- I don't spare you anything! Well, except ribs. Mmmmm . . . spare ribs drools Praying only works for televangelests, because they have the ultimate power of money guiding them and granting their every wish. Oh, you have to tell us about Europe, and what you liked the most, not about what kinda hobbit you are!  
  
Terra- The average fan fic reader should know what's going to happen right after the characters hook up in the middle of the story. Badness. But, I'm all happy that you like the story. It's kinda surprising that people get really emotional while reading this story, just because I'm a terrible writer who needs to steal from authors just to make up a story. Anyway, enough with the self-pity. Hope you like the rest of the story.  
  
Karmawiccan- I'm not a sappy, girly kind of movie person, but "WtHI" is probably one of the bests. You people are being so nice! Awww blushes I feel really embarrassed by the nice comments. But . . . that doesn't mean you have to stop writing them! I'm a whore for applause. Thank you muy! Kisses!  
  
Dead Mistress- Cool name! Well, your first assumption ("little girl can't think up anything original") is correct. I am not creative and have no imagination whatsoever. I lost it in 'Nam, along with my legs. To all you amputees out there: I love you! Ha! Well, again with the compliment embarrassment. I love writing Authors Notes, because it allows me to make fun of half the readers, and banter with the rest. To all my readers: I love you! And I love you (only, not in that way) :)  
  
Alyssa- Yah! Another "WtHI" fan! Whoo hoo! If reading fan fic is your idea of heaven . . . can I join your church? I'd be nicer than the whole angel (spits blech!) and cloud idea they gave me in preschool. Someone needs to enter my story, walk up to the stupid blonde slayer, and say, "You are a moron!" You might have to get in line. There are a few people wanting to do just that! Well, I'm probably not a legend (I haven't been in rehab . . . yet), but thanks just the same.  
  
Rachel- Well, I finally get (what I think) is a very serious flame (no offense Sokkerblondie005). Hmmm, so Miss Rachel, you think it's wrong to steal? You think I should write an original fan fic? Well, if you have a problem with AUs and other stories like that, I suggest you don't read them. Don't waste my precious time by writing me a review about how much you hate the AU category! If you wanna help me write a better story, don't tell me I should stop writing this story just because you consider it stealing! Almost all stories ever written fall into specific categories, so we are all essentially stealing from writers long ago. Go read one of the thousands of "The Gift" takeoffs, and get off my ass!  
  
DarkRoses- Again, another cool name. I feel very honored by your review, also because it's twenty million times nicer than the one before it! Yeah, I pretty much do not like the Angel, as do most of my readers, except for the masochistic ones who feel my wrath every post! Maybe I should start an "Rape Angel in Prison" club, along with my already "I Hate Riley and Dawn" club. We have five members. The rambling is funny. Kinda like you're on a whole bunch of illegal drugs. Are you? If you are, it's considered nice to share (kidding). Well, thank you bueno! I don't know what bueno means, but I mean it with love!  
  
Rhapsody-child-of-the-sky- That's really cool that you found it on your friend's list. I love finding the best stories in the most random places. I hope you don't regret adding this one to yours. Woot! One more "WtHI" fan! We're starting a revolution! I have to admit that, after screwing him over royally in this chapter, I'm starting the slack cutting. But, there shall be no more talk of Angel-laying! Ick, gross, but funny. Muah!  
  
Kt- It's not going to happen soon, but I promise! Grrr, stupid Buffy, breaking poor, sexy Spike's heart and then jumping up and down on it! He needs some good Slayer lovin', doesn't he?  
  
CraZy4SpikE09- Ahhh! Well, keep reading, and find out! Aaahhhh! I'm not going to give it away that easily! Ha, I made a funny! Ha. 


	28. Adjusting, With Pie

**Disclaimer: I don't own Billie Letts' "Where the Heart Is", or Joss Whedon's "Buffy the Vampire Slayer. What, I can't always have a funny disclaimer, can I? Am I just here as a clown for your amusement? Let's just see who's the clown when you're wearing the funny nose and multicolored wig! Yeah, Bozo, what the fuck are you going to do then?**

**Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language, and the sex.**

**Author's Notes: Hi. Please don't throw rotten fruit at me for not posting sooner. What with work, painting both mine and my sister's rooms, going to New York and California for vacation, and finally, getting back to school, I lost my muse. I guess I left her at school, seeing how I found the urge to write today, the first day of school. Blah. Well, I hope you enjoy this chapter, even though there is negative Spuffy-ness, but I hope you like it anyway.**

**PS: The "Voyager" comment is in honor of my friend, Annaleah, who doesn't read my story. Hmm, why did I put it in then? **

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****

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**Chapter Twenty-Eight- Adjusting, With Pie**

In the months that followed, Buffy became skilled in the art of lying.

At least to her friends.

They had all been in a state of shock when they found out Spike was gone. He had left the day after he came home, in the early morning, not bothering to tell anyone. At the airport, he had managed to call Giles, explaining that it was too hard being home, and that he wanted to try a life in London. But that was it. He was gone.

When Tara, Willow, Xander, and Cordelia found out, they immediately called her up and asked what happened. As calmly as she could, Buffy said it was his decision to go, not hers.

She knew she was the reason he left. Buffy wasn't that stupid. Their final conversation had managed to hurt him in ways she couldn't have predicted, but it was all for the best.

Had she lived alone, Buffy would have spent a week on the couch, curled up in a ball in her pajamas as she watched daytime television and ate ice cream, alternating between depression and tears. She'd give up brushing her teeth, washing her hair, and showering.

Because she had to be the grown up and mother, she ignored all of her instincts. Instead, she kept going through the daily routine of caring for Aurora, pretending that all was well with the world.

It didn't stop her from breaking down occasionally. While grocery shopping, she began sobbing uncontrollably in the laundry detergent section. She had to be escorted to her car after Aurora's preschool teacher informed Buffy that her daughter was reading at a sixth-grade level, unheard of for a four-year old. At one point, she stopped going to the library all together, and Willow was put in charge of getting and returning books. But, she wasn't the only Summers feeling shitty.

When Spike moved to London, Aurora not only lost her babysitter, but her best friend, book buddy, and almost-father. He was the only adult to ever take her seriously, to listen to her wild theories and ideas without laughing, and when he would respond, would speak to her as if she wasn't four. Since he left, everything changed around the girl. Instead of going to the library everyday after school, she was sent to the Harris house, which was still fine, but wasn't the same.

When she would later look back on it, Buffy realized that Aurora never had any peculiar habits. When Meredith gave up eating all foods that started with F, and Holden became so scared of animals that he refused to go outside if he saw a bird, Aurora remained almost normal.

Suddenly, when everything changed around her, she snapped. She refused to wear socks, would only eat her meals on the bright yellow plate with sunflowers Buffy found at a garage sale, and threw a fit in her car seat if Buffy drove anywhere near a gas station. And then, there was the cape.

Aurora refused to leave the house without her cape. Actually, the cape was a blue pillowcase that tied around her neck. Buffy indulged her at first, hoping she'd get bored with it, but after two weeks the cape was still there.

"How about we leave the cape at home today, and you can wear this pretty hat, Rory," Buffy proposed, showing her daughter the hat.

To respond, Aurora grabbed the hat, threw it on the ground, and stuck her tongue out at Buffy. That gained her an hour time-out in her room, but she didn't seem the least regretful.

"What the fuck is with the pillowcase," sighed Buffy, sitting in the kitchen with Willow later that night.

The redhead groaned as well. "That ugly, shaggy blue thing? I don't . . ." she trailed off, but then something popped into her mind. "Ooh! Um, that one day I had to pick Rory up from the library, she was wearing it! It was one of Anya's old things, and Spike gave it to her. Called it her superhero cape."

One morning, a letter addressed to Rory came in the mail. The envelope had a coffee cup ring on the back, and the return address had been erased so heavily that it crumpled. Thinking it was a mistake, Buffy opened the letter herself.

_Bit-_

_Make sure you finish "The Secret Garden" as soon as possible, because you need to start "A Christmas Carol" before Thanksgiving. You'll love it, I promise. Also, make sure to add Franz Kafka's "The Metamorphosis" to the list. It's probably too advanced for you, but I know you can get through it._

_How's preschool? That little bugger still teasing you? _

_I'm in London right now. Went and saw the crown jewels yesterday. Remember I showed you a picture of them? _

_Take "The Scarlet Letter" off your list. I just reread it, and it's not worth your time._

_Just wanted to let you know, Rory, that I love you, and I miss you. Sometimes you just have to do weird things._

_I've enclosed a five-pound note. That's the queen on it. Doesn't it look nicer than those stupid green dollars?_

_Also add Jane Austin's "Pride and Prejudice". I don't know why I didn't add that in the beginning._

_Spike_

_P.S.: Tell your mother I hope she is well._

Every week, usually on a Tuesday, a letter from Spike to Aurora would arrive. Usually a short note, with many book additions and subtractions enclosed, would be all. Sometimes, he'd send her a package with rare books, small toys or stuffed animals for her. Rory would snatch up the letters, read them over as many times as she could, and would follow his instructions. Then, she put the letter in a shoebox hidden under her bed.

Buffy would manage to sneak a peek at the note before then. It was always the same, but sometimes she wished he would address part of the letter to her, instead of that stupid postscript he'd always add at the end. Maybe a sentence that said she was right, he was doing well, or that he missed her.

She sure as hell missed him. One evening, while helping Anya clean the Magic Box, she found a note in a stack of papers. It was a telephone number, the name 'Will' written in big letters. Copying the number down on a piece of scrap paper, she hid it in her pocket, and waited until getting home to try it. After the fifth ring, he picked up, muttering "'Ello". Her mind suddenly went blank, and Buffy quickly hung up.

"Well, what were you going to do?" Willow half-yelled at her.

Buffy shrugged. She had admitted her actions, and her true feelings, to Willow, knowing her roommate would be discreet.

"I don't know. I thought-"

"You'd tell him you loved him, and to come home?"

She shook her head. "No, I couldn't do that to him. There's nothing in Sunnydale for him."

After a moment of silence, resolve face firmly placed on, Willow sighed. "Before you go on deciding what he needs, you need to figure out what you want. Once you do that, maybe everything will become clear."

* * *

With a big grin spreading towards the corners of her mouth, Buffy stepped away from the kitchen entrance.

"And now, the piece de resistance!"

Willow sauntered in, smiling just as brightly as Buffy, carrying the silver serving platter heaped with steaming slices of turkey. On top of her head, for no apparent reason, she was wearing an oversized cowboy hat.

"Go on! Dig in!" the redhead commanded, setting the tray in the center of Buffy's dining room table.

The guests, impressed by both the Martha Stewart-esque presentation and the apparent growth in their hostess's cooking skills, did just that.

Except Giles.

"I thought the family patriarch was supposed to carve and serve for this ridiculous holiday," he observed from his seat, the pout in his voice very obvious.

Buffy gave him a saucy smile. "Well, certain family patriarchs decided not to host Thanksgiving this year."

"I've hosted it the past bloody three years!'

Rolling her eyes, Buffy passed the gravy to Tara. "You get to be a guest this year, and Willow's the patriarch."

"Why am I the patriarch?" complained Willow.

"Because I was the only one who cooked, and you carried in the turkey."

"And because of your very masculine hat," Anya pointed out, placing olives on her plate.

"I just thought it was cute." Willows lower lip began to quiver as she took the hat off.

Xander turned to Cordelia.

"Five dollars," he demanded from his wife, holding his hand out under her nose.

Rolling her eyes, Cordelia fished into her pants' pocket, and pulled out the bill, stuffing it bitterly into her husband's hand.

"What's with that?" Tara asked halfway through bites.

Cordelia groaned. "Xander bet me that someone would start to cry tonight, seeing how it's Thanksgiving." She obviously didn't find it funny.

Buffy did however, as she passed the fruit salad bowl to the complete stranger sitting next to her.

"Want some, Andrew?"

The blond boy shook his head shyly and went back to piling up his mashed potatoes, trying to stay out of the conversation, and way.

Andrew was the eighteen-year-old relation of Anya's who had been staying in Sunnydale for the past few weeks. No one, except Giles probably, knew how exactly the two were related, or how long the boy was staying. There were no complaints from anyone. The group, as was their nature, took him in without question.

Xander, a bite of half-chewed turkey in him mouth, made a "humph" noise.

"Buffy," he asked, pointing at the remaining turkey slices, "What kind of turkey is this?"

"Turkey turkey," she replied, a little too quickly for everyone seated at the table.

Aurora stood up from her chair, waving her little arm back and forth. "I know! I know!"

Buffy shot her daughter the death glare. "Eat your carrots, Rory!"

"Momma forgotted to take the turkey outta the freezer today! S'not turkey!"

All forks stopped halfway to mouths.

"Buffy, what kind of turkey is this?" Xander repeated slowly.

Her cheeks were burning red. "Tofu turkey from Wal-Mart."

Uncomfortable silence ensued until Tara spoke up.

"W-well," she stuttered, unsure of what to say, "It's a barbaric tradition to slaughter an animal just because this stupid, politically-influenced, Native American slaughter disguised as a holiday . . . thing tells us to do so! Besides . . . mmmm, tofu. I love . . . tofu!"

Again, Xander turned to Cordelia, grinning once again. "Someone screamed," he commented, waiting as the brunette grumbled, pulled out another five dollar bill, and put it in his hand.

"Why the hell are you betting with Cordy on this stuff?" Willow asked.

"It's easy money, seeing that's how all family holidays are spent." Cordelia answered for Xander, before bursting into giggles.

At least it broke the tension, and dinner resumed with the eating of yams and fake-turkey.

Before dessert was served, Giles stood up, wine glass in hand.

"Even though my position of patriarch has been unceremoniously taken away this year-" he paused, managing to glare at a snickering Buffy, "I would like to make the traditional toast.

"It has been a very . . . complex year for us all. We have lost a few members of our makeshift family, but we have also gained a few other additions as well, what with Andrew and Cordelia having twins in June."

"Don't remind us!" groaned Cordelia and Xander at the same time. They were still recovering from the shock.

"But, through it all," Giles continued, "I've known that I could always depend on this very wonderful group. Except for William, who doesn't have the bloody decency to fly in for Thanksgiving even though his poor uncle, who raised him without complaint, called him constantly for a week. 'Sorry, Rupes, but I've got other plans'! I guess the next time I'll be seeing you is when you're at my funeral, waiting for the will to be read-"

"Digressing, honey," interrupted Anya.

"What I'm attempting to say is . . . I've spent most of my life planning on being alone. Before I moved here, took on Will and Drusilla, and met all of you, I was content to be by myself. It's taken me a long time to realize that I don't want that anymore. There is especially one person here I don't want to be parted from.

"Anya." Slowly lowering to his knee, Giles pulled a small, black box out of his pocket. "I don't know how I survived before you walked into the library all those years ago, asking if I had a payphone. I don't know what I would do if you weren't beside me. You've made my life whole, and I'm grateful with every fiber of my being. It's a silly life, but it's whole. Would you give me the honor of . . . would you marry me?"

Anya took exactly sixty-three seconds to gaze blankly at the ring inside the box, her mouth hanging open. That is, until she began to bounce excitedly in her chair, squealing at the sight of the ring inside the black box.

"Oh God! YES! Yes, I will!" she screamed in a high pitched voice, as Giles slipped the platinum and diamond band on her ring finger.

Buffy, Tara, and Willow grabbed their napkins to wipe the few tears sprouting from their eyes while Cordelia, too hormonal to care, used the back of her hand.

There was a sniffling sound coming from Buffy's right, and she suppressed a smile to see Andrew also crying.

"You happy?" she asked the boy.

He nodded. "It's kinda like the early seasons of "Voyager". Those few moments when B'Elanna and Tom would quit fighting, and you could see that they really cared . . ." Andrew could see that Buffy had no idea what he was talking about. "I'm happy."

"Thought this would never happen, would it Will?" Xander joked, nudging the redhead. But she had been lost in her thoughts, and snapped out of it quite shockingly.

"I'M GAY!"

Her shout silenced the room, as her cheeks became the same color as her hair.

"Sorry," she apologized, "I'm not trying to take away the attention, or ruin the holidays. But I haven't thought of a good time to say this, and I guess now would be OK, instead of having a meeting like I had thought of before, but then you'd think that I was in trouble, like I was doing drugs or was getting arrested for kiddie porn-"

"Rambling, Will," Buffy interjected.

"Yeah, sorry. Again." Sighing, Willow began to play with her napkin. "Giles was right about this year being complex. Bad things happened, but good things have too. I got to find out that I felt differently about one of my best friends. That it wasn't just friendship. So, I guess I'm gay. Or lesbian. With Tara. Tara and I are gay together or . . . how do you explain it?" she asked Tara.

Smiling, and also trying not to blush, Tara leaned across the table. "Just say we're in love," whispered the brunette.

"Yeah, we're in love," Willow giggled. "And you don't have to like it, but we'd both like it if you accepted it."

Reaching for the bottle of wine, Giles cleared his throat. "Does anyone else have some announcements to share before we start with the pie?"

"My front tooth is wiggly," Meredith offered, her mouth full of potatoes.

"Very good? Anything else?"

Cordelia raised her hand, a smile on her face. "Xander owes me twenty bucks. I saw this coming two months ago."

Xander didn't reply, except to grumble as he threw a wadded twenty-dollar bill in Cordelia's direction.

* * *

Celestria-17- Calm down on the drugs, honey! Don't expect the makeup sex anytime soon, if there even is going to be any. (Cue the "duh duh DUH" music) Nah, just kidding. Or am I?

Kori Hime- It's OK to feel sorry for Angel. It's not his fault he's a prick. And don't pout, even though there wasn't a Spike appearance in this chapter. Stupid flamers. Need to get hit in the . . . well, I'll let you decide.

Mita427- "Sweet, dumb ass country prick"? I like it! Probably the reason Angel sings country music is because he's stupid. And a "poofter". If you don't like it that there was no Spikey-ness in this chapter, you can pretend there was. Or, you can say sexily until you go to the bad, or good considering how you look at it, good place.

Tobert- Sorry for getting your hopes up, but no Spuffy. And probably no Spuffy next chapter. Please don't hurt me . . .

Wolf116- I can't kill Angel, because I need him in a few chapters. Not for a romance thing, because . . . ew? Yeah, flames are just stupid, especially when they aren't signed. It's kinda cowardly. But, I've gotten you to join the "I Hate Angel" bandwagon for this story, so hurrah!

Imzadi- It's really hard to pretend that Angel has a good singing voice. Remember Angel and Conner's special Jasmine-rendition of "Mandy"? That one had me cringing for at least a week. Oh, and the standing ovation? Thank you very much. Keep it coming, if you please. Kidding.

Psychovampgurl- Well, now that I think about it, we should get Sigfried and Roy to also play, because we'd get a lot of publicity because Roy got chewed on by his tiger. It'd be like a reunion, and we could have them donate a tiger to attack the many Pro-Homework people we can expect on the other side of the street. I guess, at present count, I have about five chapters left. Seeing how I'm back in school, the chappies will come quicker. Love ya too!

Lovefromthefire- Oh god! I didn't think about that! Sorry to everyone who had the slightest thought that Giles and Buffy were going to hook up. I mean . . . sick! After "Tabula Rasa", I became a Giles/Anya shipper, at least when she wasn't with Xander. Poor Giles needs some lovin' too, even if he is kinda old.

Karmawiccan- "Finally" !?! You make it sound like it's been forever! Well, it has been forever, but that's beside the point. You wanna join the "I Hate Angel" club for this story? It's five dollars. But, be warned, I hope to make him at least tolerable soon, and the money is non-refundable. Waiting sucks, I know, but I have everything planned out, and I swear you are going to love it.

Lurking-in-the-shadows- Poop on Angel! Or, I should say, fuck him up his ass! (Pardon my French) Angel doesn't deserve sympathy, unless he says he's sorry. And buys her flowers. And a house. And a yacht. And sacrifices his life to give her money. I like the "pleasant cream filled chocolate bunny moments" idea. But, just the term. Not the actual practice of it, because it can become too messy.

Chrestomanci- Here is what I say to you: Whatever. Whatever. I do what I want. Come on over and punch me, for all I care. I'm rubber, and you are glue. Whatever you say . . . does something else to you and karma comes in and . . . yeah, that's it! Kisses!

Iselyn- Personally, Angel just needs to be hated, especially when he's in his brooding state. He was OK on his own show, but that was because he wasn't "Buffy's Romantic Guy". Except, we got Riley, who was 100 worse. Oh, and thanks for your anti-flame-girl speech. She's quite special.

Amy- Um, please don't die. That would be sad. But thank you very much for the compliments. It gives me "pleasant cream filled chocolate bunny" feelings.

Sokkerblondie005- Well, Buffy would have gotten with Spike even if she hadn't died. They were on the slow road to a relationship. Her death only managed to twist her feelings into a search for comfort and escape. Is that philosophical enough for you, bi-atch? HUH? Oh yeah, Angel is in touch with his feminine side, ever time he . . . well, you can fill that in. How should I finish this bitch slap? WORD! Love ya!

Mari- Wow! I'm not a god! Don't look to me to fulfill your wants! Just be calm, and serene, and have nasty, dirty Spuffy fantasies every night before you go to bed.

SunnyD- Do you love me enough to buy me a pony? Kidding. This is kinda weird, because I had just gotten done re-reading "Twilight" when I got your review. Very exciting! But thank you very much.

Mac- I don't know whether to say "Thank you" or "How rude" (think Stephanie from "Full House"). The comments about the drug flashbacks, hack writer, and "desperate for the storyline" kinda put me off at first, then I realized you were congratulating me. Yeah, I'm not too good with the spelling, and I obviously don't have a beta, but I'm not doing this to get published. If I were, I'd be whoring a lot more. Also, as you can see, I like responding to reviews. This is to let everyone know that I did read the reviews, and I understand the feedback. But, anyway, thanks for the review, and I hope you like the story as I start to end it.


	29. A Strong Woman

**Disclaimer: I don't own Billie Letts' "Where the Heart Is", or Joss Whedon's "Buffy the Vampire Slayer. What, I can't always have a funny disclaimer, can I? Am I just here as a clown for your amusement? Let's just see who's the clown when you're wearing the funny nose and multicolored wig! Yeah, Bozo, what the fuck are you going to do then? **

**Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language, and the sex.**

**Author's Notes: I'm not watching any of the election coverage. If I do, I'll just be uber-depressed. So, instead, I come bearing updates. Woot! I know, no woot from you because I've taken my damn sweet time to do this, but . . . c'mon, school is HARD! Tee hee. Jesus, I'm gonna need more chocolate if I'm gonna survive the backlash of tomorrow. Anyway, readers, do your thing. Hopefully, you like the sappiness of this chapter.**

**PS: I've broken my self-imposed ban of the WB because they are bastards for canceling "Angel". Well, I've become a convert to the world of "Gilmore Girls", and it isn't my fault. Don't hit, please. Oh, and, yes, I do think Michael Vaughn/Vartan is a complete hottie. Anyone who doesn't is a cheesehead. **

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**Chapter Twenty-Nine: A Strong Woman**

Spring came. As if a switch had been thrown, tiny green buds were sprouting all over Sunnydale. Not that it had been quite so dead during the winter, but the residents had missed the flowers.

It was midnight, and once again, Buffy was awake. Willow was gone for the night, off with Tara, and she probably wouldn't be back until tomorrow. Buffy had the feeling Willow would be moving out of 1630 Revello Drive in the near future, if not within in the month.

The fact that Giles and Anya were getting married in the morning wasn't helping the sleep issue, although Buffy knew that _he_ wouldn't be there. Spike had sent his regrets, nearly sending his uncle into a homicidal rampage. She wasn't ignorant why he refused to come, and it hurt.

So, she stood at her bedroom window, staring outside at the quiet neighborhood, thousands of thoughts, all meaningless, wafting through her brain.

The squeaking hinge of her door, the one she had been meaning to fix, alerted her to the new presence in her room. Turning, she smiled at her daughter's head sticking in.

"Can't sleep either?" asked Buffy as the girl shuffled in.

Aurora shook her head, squeezing Cookie Monster. "Nope."

Picking her up, Buffy sat at the edge of her bed, Aurora in her lap. The two could see Buffy's rose tree out the window, the leaves and flowers still days from sprouting.

"Whatcha thinking 'bout, Rory?"

"Noffing." Aurora was about to stick her finger up her nose, but Buffy pulled her hand away.

"You sure?"

"No." She tried again to get her finger up her nostril.

Buffy sighed. "Don't pick your nose, honey." She waited for Aurora to talk, but the girl just picked at Cookie's blue, worn fur. "You gonna tell me?"

She finally looked up, and Buffy was shocked to see how much her daughter's eyes looked like her own.

"Do I have a daddy?" the four-year-old asked.

It was the question Buffy had feared since the day she held Aurora in her arms. She herself had to ask Darla the same question so many years ago, and the response had hurt so badly inside. It had made her feel incomplete, like she was missing an important piece of her life.

Why had she decided to sleep with the most irresponsible man in the universe? Why did he have to be the father to her sweet, innocent daughter? Angel had left her for dead in the Wal-Mart parking lot, but Aurora had to be the one to suffer.

"No, Rory, you don't have a daddy." Buffy pulled Aurora closer, and began to rock her. "Somewhere out there is the guy who gave me to you, but he wasn't ready to be a daddy," she whispered. "But, I think I love you enough for both a mommy and daddy, and you have a billion other people who love you, too."

"How 'bout you?" Aurora asked, as if the explanation wasn't the point.

"Me?"

"Daddies help make babies, and we don't have one, so you can't have more babies. And I want you to have a baby 'cause they're fun," she explained.

Buffy couldn't help laughing. "I think you're enough for me right now."

Turning around, Aurora wrapped her arms around her mommy's neck. "But, you're not happy. Babies make mommies happy."

"I'm not sad because I don't have another baby," Buffy tried to articulate to the girl. "I'm just sad-"

Aurora filled it in. "'Cause Spike goed away?"

She was about to protest, but Buffy knew that wasn't going to sway her daughter's opinion. Aurora was a smart one.

"Yeah. I'm sad 'cause Spike went away." Buffy tried to smile, but it felt false. She then her a squeeze and a kiss on the head. "Go to sleep, we have a wedding tomorrow," she ordered.

Slipping out of her mother's lap, Aurora gave Buffy a kiss, and toddled out. "I want Spike to be my daddy," she said before leaving the room, "But he goed . . . he went away and I didn't ask. Sorry, momma. I was gonna ask."

* * *

"Holden! Put that down before I spank your butt!" Cordelia screamed.

From across the tent, Buffy saw the boy pull the gift-wrapped box closer to his chest. "But I want it!" he pleaded with his mother.

"This is a wedding! You DO NOT act like this at a wedding!"

"I want it," Holden stated, "And I don't haveta listen to you!"

Buffy knew the boy was in for it when Cordelia attempted to stand up, her already huge stomach bulging into the air as she struggled up out of the white folding chair. Her face, red from both the heat and the embarrassing situation, twisted into an unforgiving frown.

"I'm only going to count to three," the brunette threatened, "And if you haven't put Giles and Anya's gift back on the table, you'll wish . . ."

Not only did the boy keep a hold of the present; he ran away, giggling while Cordelia waddled after him, screaming at Xander to help. Xander, who had been dancing to "Macho Man" with Willow moments earlier, followed, first trying to quell his wife's rage.

"You know," Anya began, watching the scene with a smile on her face, "I was thinking about having one of those." She pointed towards the receding form of Holden for clarification. "But, if the one I get ends up like Holden, I will most likely consider the option of boarding school in Paraguay."

"Not all of them are like Holden," Buffy interjected, sipping some champagne out of her glass. "Cordelia and Xander just have bad karma."

Anya nodded, removing her silver hoop earrings and throwing them onto the satin tablecloth. "I wasn't referring to all children, just the evil ones. Holden, in particular."

Buffy laughed. "I think you and the Mister are going to be fine."

The two both glimpsed at the dance floor, where Giles was, in his terms, "getting down and boogying" with Andrew, Meredith, and Aurora. He saw the women staring at him with amusement, and just shrugged, a huge grin on his face.

"He is very good at being a father." Anya took a bite of cake. "When William and Drusilla were little, he was very attentive."

Anya carefully watched Buffy's reaction, which was to snap up at the mention of that name, then fiddle with the napkin in her lap.

"I said William's name on purpose," the bride continued, a sly smirk on her face as Buffy curiously looked up, "Because I wanted to know if you are still in love with him."

Buffy's jaw dropped. "I'm not-"

"You don't need to contradict me. I've been saving up a substantial amount of evidence to prove you wrong."

She tried to argue again, but a quirk of Anya's eyebrow shut her up.

Groaning, Buffy slammed her forehead into the table. "How did you know?" she asked pathetically.

"You aren't very subtle in hiding your emotions, especially when anyone says his name. Your hand always twitch."

"It so does not," Buffy contested.

Another eyebrow quirk from Anya. "Spike."

Buffy's hand twitched in response, and she stared at it with horror.

"Does everyone know?" she cried.

"Yes."

"Does Giles know?"

"Buffy, he's a man. Of course he doesn't."

"But, I . . ." she wound her fingers into her hair, not sure what to say. "OK, you have to understand that I've really, REALLY, loved him from, like, forever. And I've tried not to. Like, I've hit myself whenever I thought about him, or I've tried to get an unhealthy crush on that cute guy from 'Alias'-"

"Which cute guy?" Anya interrupted.

"Um, the agent. Vaughn."

"Oh," sighed Anya, throwing her head back, a dreamy teenage look in her eyes. "He is cute."

"Yeah . . . but that's not he point! I can't not be in love with Spike! He's too wonderful, and I don't deserve to love him."

Buffy resumed the head-bashing-on-table thing until Anya stilled her.

"While it would be nice to have sex with the cute 'Alias' guy, why don't you deserve William?"

Yet another exasperated sigh from the blonde. "He's . . . I'm trailer trash. I had a daughter at 17. I didn't finish high school. I'd go on and on but there's no point."

"So, if this is the basis for not deserving a Giles man . . ." Anya began to play with one of her earrings, "I guess I shouldn't have gotten married today."

"Why's that?" Buffy asked, not understanding.

"Your sappy Lifetime-movie-of-the-week story is mine, too. I dropped out of high school because some stud from the wrestling team got me pregnant. My father, who makes Joey Buttafuoco look like the Pope, kicked me out because I didn't want to marry the father. Blah blah blah, I end up in Sunnydale, open a store. Pass a tissue."

"Anya," Buffy tried to clarify, "You don't have a kid."

Something changed in Anya's demeanor as she nodded her head towards the dance floor. All Buffy could make out in the crowd of people was Giles tossing Meredith in the air, and Rory dancing on the feet of . . . no, not . . .

"ANDREW?"

"I guess there's a bit of a resemblance. The people who adopted him say there is, but I only see it every once in a while."

"You can't be his mother," Buffy argued.

Shrugging, Anya looked away from the blonde's eyes. "I had him at fifteen. Guess I don't happen to look old enough to, but it's the truth. Having Andrew wasn't the smartest decision I could make. But, I found a good family to take care of my guy. I hope you get to meet them someday; they're pretty spectacular people. Andrew's always known who I am because they wanted us all to be a family. They even let Andrew come to the University of Sunnydale so he and I could get to know each other, hence the him being here.

"You and I, Buffy, we're exactly the same. A lot of shit was put on us when we didn't need it. We both had kids when we were just kids ourselves. The only difference between us is that you were ready to be a mother. I couldn't even take care of myself when Andrew was born, so I gave him to a family who could be there for him. But we're strong women, Buffy. We are survivors, and we can deal with whatever comes our way. If William doesn't deserve you because off all those reasons, I don't deserve Giles."

"Anya . . ." Buffy tried to reason.

"No, Buffy. Life is mean to girls like us, who can't help where or to whom we're born. But sometimes, SOMETIMES, good things can happen to us. Instead of saying you don't deserve William, ask yourself if William deserves you."

* * *

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Sokkerblondie005- Oh yes, she did! When you argue, all I hear (or read) is "Blah, blah, I don't like Spike because I like whiny guys who don't do anything but sit in the shadows, be all creepy, and complain!" Wait, I guess that's how both the guys are at some point. Whatev. Oh, and I meant the bitch slap in friendship. A kind of Cher Snap-out-of-it "Moonstruck" thing. All in fun. If Buffy and Angel are meant to be, I'm signing up for Buffy's insane asylum alter-world. Kisses!

Celestria-17- No, I didn't die . . . enough to be dead forever. Ha. No, that wasn't funny. Sorry for that. But, hey, wait for Buffy's decision in a few chapters as to whether she needs to go after the cute blond guy.

Amy- Well, hon, sounds like someone needs their stalker meds. Just kidding. I feel really bad for not updating sooner because I really begin to hate authors who take for fucking ever to update. Don't kill or maim me, pretty please. But, I hope there was another leap of joy for your hear with this update.

Imzadi- You're mad at me too for not updating? I'm sorry, but I guess I spend too much time hating school and not enough time writing Spuffy porn. If I had control of the world, you sure as hell would be transported into the story to do all and more you want to do to Buffy. Then, after that, you could make out with Lindsey for half an hour while someone else distracts Lilah.

Samolly- My muse comes and goes. I think it was a nomad in another life. As for bribes, in the words of the immortal Strong Bad, "I only accept gold nuggets. Or maybe Denver nuggets. Whatever you got on you. Chicken nuggets . . ."

Amandamanda3- Yes, you are random. God, your dad's as much as a freak as Buffy is. Only, Buffy's not a real person, and your dad is. Hmmm . . . No Spuffy this time, but I recommend you go to one of the Spuffy-ier chapters and read it over and over until you are sated. And yeah, I'm at the U of O. I do suggest you go here because of the hippies, pot smoking, and crappy malls. And me. OSU just has cows. And corn.

Psychovampgurl- No! Withdrawal very of the bad! Sorry, I've just been watching a hella lot of "Lost", and withdrawal does weird things to people. Sorry to cause you pain. Hopefully this works.

Mita427- K, I don't know how to say it, but your review was totally hot. Except for the whole calling Buffy a boob thing, which doesn't fit into the whole Spike-hot thing.

"You know, my own bleach-blonde, sexy, hunky, washboard ab-y, evil, sweet, caring, sexy, hott, vampire Spike."

I'm gonna have to ponder that for a few moments.

Iselyn- It wasn't like it's been five hundred years since my last update! No, just kidding. The whole Willow "I'm gay" thing came to me while I was on my way to work. It just seemed so her.

Wicked-angel3- "Did Xander and Cordy suddenly turn Mormon?"!

OH MY FRIGGING GOD, YOU ARE WONDERFUL!

That quote is too priceless for words. Thanks!

SpikeLover520- Thank you very much for the review. Hope this one is good enough.

Chrestomanci- Seeing how we're back where we started, I'm free to say it: Get the fuck off my ass, bitch. Or, why don't you make me? C'mon, "Lost Boys" watchin' punk!

Anyanka0705- Spike will come back on his own time. Maybe. Muhahaha.

(Not even gonna write the name 'cause it's pure gibberish)- Hey, Mimi! Well, if anyone is a bitch on this whole thing, it's you, the supreme queen superfly bitch of the supermarket. Can't wait to see you this weekend. You better come, or I'm gonna cry.

Discord Marie- Well, hello. You read until 3:30? Wow, I hope you didn't go all crazy the rest of the day. Feel free to throw a shoe at Buffy. She deserves it for making Spike go away. And yes, I'll try super hard to write faster. I'm almost done, I promise!

Betalight- Glad I had you laughing. Hopefully it wasn't in an embarrassing situation, like at work or school, where everyone looks at you like you're completely nuts. But, thanks!


	30. Saying Sorry

Disclaimer: I don't own Billie Letts' "Where the Heart Is", or Joss Whedon's "Buffy the Vampire Slayer. 

**Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language, and the sex.**

**Author's Notes: See below.**

**PS: Hi all!**

Chapter Thirty- Saying Sorry

Children like water. Taking care of the combined eighty-five kids of her friends (OK, six including Aurora and the new Harris twins) got Buffy to understand that. They don't like it in a bath sense, because it involves cleaning, but otherwise, it's all good.

So, when children are being tiny little demons who won't sit still for FIVE GOD DAMNED SECONDS . . . put them in the backyard, and give them the hose.

" . . . And you can come inside when it's time for more cake," Buffy finished, shutting the glass door behind the kids, the hose already in Meredith's hands as she ran after Holden and Aurora, tiny Sydney toddling behind her big sister.

Buffy turned around in her kitchen to survey the disaster that was the remnants of Aurora's fifth birthday party. Wads of the Sunnydale Times on the floor, cake under the table, markers and tape attached to places she would never have dreamed of. Sighing, she began to pick the scattered "Finding Nemo" cake plates. Tara and Willow joined in with the cleaning, both picking up the heaps of newspaper (it had been Buffy's intention to keep the mess down, but it backfired).

Only Cordelia stayed out of the tidying. It had only been a month since she grudgingly went to the hospital to deliver her twin baby boys, Keith and Mick Harris.

(Yes, they were named after the Rolling Stones guys.)

(No, Cordelia was on a lot of drugs when the doctor asked what to name the boys, and Xander answered for her.)

(Yes, Xander would be in trouble for the rest of his life.)

So she got to sit all cushy-like in a chair, although both the boys were clamped to her boobs for their 2 PM feeding.

"The funny thing, Cordy," Willow said with a laugh, watching the brunette playing the part of the milking cow, "You get to go through about four times as many parties, so lots and lots of fun for you!"

Cordelia gave the redhead a heinous look. "Fu . . . screw you!"

Laughing, Buffy joined in. "No, she'd have to stop having the kids, and then it'd only be four."

"Screw you both!" Then, an evil gleam appeared in her eyes. "At least I'm not expecting death and disaster within 24 hours . . ."

That suddenly had Buffy sobering. "STOP RIGHT THERE! Don't say anything! No more talking of . . . _b-a-d l-u-c-k_," she finished with a whisper.

Willow kept laughing. "You can't believe in the superstitious '5' thing anymore, Buffy. Nothing is going to happen."

"Oh, thank you Willow." Buffy threw the collection of used paper plates over her head, then collapsed into a chair. "You've gone ahead and cursed everything."

"I did not."

"Did so! Aurora lost her hair at five weeks. She got lost totally at five months. I was hoping at least a '5' birthday was going to go smooth, that she'd have one normal birthday, but you just had to go and jinx it!"

"You're too paranoid," Cordelia tried to reason. "Just because everything's gone wrong in the past doesn't mean it'll be bad this time."

"Um . . . guys?" Tara interrupted, staring at one of the sheets of crumpled newspaper.

"Yeah, baby?" Willow came up to her from behind, and read what was in Tara's hands. Almost immediately, her face blanched.

Buffy reached for the paper. "What is it?"

Tara swallowed hard. "I guess you really do have bad luck."

**POLICE REPORT- July 12th**

_A man, identified as Liam Metatron, was found unconscious in the Shell Station restroom on 26th and Pine. He apparently collapsed in one of the restroom stalls and was not discovered until late Tuesday._

_According to Metatron, who left Colorado two weeks ago, he had been hitchhiking towards southern California to search for his child and the child's mother, whom he had not seen since 1997._

_Metatron, who lost his right arm in a train accident, was admitted to Woodburn Hospital and treated for dehydration, exhaustion, and was diagnosed with low-grade Hepatitis C. He remains in stable condition._

The hospital smell, a combination of cleaning solvents and sterile air, assaulted Buffy's nose as she entered through the sliding doors of Woodburn Hospital, located half an hour away from Sunnydale. She walked down the hall, as nurses slowly passed by her. They weren't in a hurry, and a few were cracking jokes while sipping on the obviously gross hospital coffee.

She wished she could be so carefree, but all the joy from the afternoon and Rory's party had quickly faded when Tara showed her the newspaper. At first, she thought it was a mistake. But, what other Liam would be heading in the direction of Sunnydale in search of his missing ex-girlfriend and kid?

Angel was back, and he had been looking for her. Her and Aurora.

The nurse at the front desk hesitated a second before telling Buffy where his room was, until Buffy explained that they were family. Well, in a way, sort of.

Buffy rode the elevator to the fifth floor, turned left, and went down the hall, searching for room 5-15.

_Sure, of course he'd be in a five room, stupid bastard_, she thought to herself as she knocked twice, then entered the room.

It was a small, bare room, painted that annoying shade of taupe psychologist think calms people. Of course, these shrinks didn't have to deal with confronting their ex for the first time in five (_Again?_) years.

He was sleeping in the only bed in the room, dead to the world thanks to heavy amounts of medication. Buffy was shocked to see how horrible he looked. Angel had been so good looking, tall and muscular. He was an amazingly gorgeous site, enough to make any girl weep for joy. All that was left of him was a skeletal frame, held only together by skin, which was straining in order to keep his body intact. His thick brown hair, which he had taken such great pride in, was shortened in an extreme crew cut. It even looked like he was bald in parts of his scalp.

Terrified, she turned around, choking back her desire to sob. She did not want to be here, or to do this. All she wanted was to run away and forget about Angel for the rest of her life.

Angel's breathing, which had been slow and even, suddenly picked up, culminating in a gasp.

"I DON'T HEAR IT! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Suddenly, he sat up in bed. The veins in his neck, which were noticeable through his translucent skin, stood out as he screamed. Buffy backed up against the wall, holding her purse in front of her for protection in case he was manic.

The rage left him bit by bit, and he lowered himself on to the pillow in a snail-like pace, the opposite of his horrifying spectacle. His eyes also seemed to clear up out of the delusion as he stared about the room, exhausted from his display.

His gaze crossed over Buffy smoothly, as if he didn't see her. It took him a moment before he realized that he was not alone in the room, and then went back to her, staring like he had no idea who she was. She lowered her purse at the same rate recognition sparked in his once-brown orbs, which had dimmed with years of heavy drinking and personal destruction.

"B-b . . ." He stuttered with the words, unable to put them on his tongue. "B-Buffy?"

It was with an innocent amazement that he gazed at her, and Buffy felt as awkward as the first time he looked at her. But that time, he had only been thinking lustful thoughts.

Her first instinct was to take her purse, chuck it at his stupid head, then beat him to death with a blunt object so he could understand how miserable he made her. But, she was a mature adult now, and couldn't let emotions take her over.

"Angel." It was a civil enough greeting, but the ice in her voice was palpable to anyone listening.

"I . . . you're really here?" He propped himself up on his elbow, and the effort was obviously straining, and Buffy had to hold herself back from helping him.

"I should ask what the fuck you're doing here. You gonna let me know?"

She waited for an answer, but he was oblivious to the question, shaking his head as he repeated over and over, "Amazing." While he had been gone, he had developed a slight accent; a soft drawl that managed to slur syllables together. What in the hell had Angel been doing?

"Angel," she repeated, waiting for him to look back at her. "Why are you here?"

"I came to find you."

"Where were you planning to look?" She asked, the ice in her voice cracking.

Confused, he shrugged his shoulders. "I don't . . . um, I was gonna start-"

"You thought that I'd still be at the Wal-Mart, waiting in the parking lot?" Tears formed in the corners of her eyes. "You're late, you stupid fucking bastard," she whispered.

"Buffy, I just wanted to see you. You, and the baby."

His words were pure and without intention, but they backfired when she murderously glared at him.

"The baby?"

Worried, his face dropped. "There was a baby, wasn't there? Nothing happened to it?"

She took pity on his distress. "The baby's fine."

"Was it a girl or boy? Whad ja name it?" He fired off the questions, energy suddenly appearing from nowhere.

"It was a girl, I named her Aurora. Aurora Rose Summers. And if you try to take her away, I will find you, take you to the middle of some forest, and do such horrible things to your body they'd throw me in prison for years!"

"What?" he yelled.

"You've always managed to steal everything important to me, it'd only make sense that you'd run away with the one thing I love most in this world!"

The face, that anger that had at times both frightened and aroused Buffy long ago, was back as he straightened himself out on the bed.

"Exactly how am I supposed to do that?" he shot back at her. "How am I supposed to run away with her when I can barely pick her up!"

He waived his right arm at her, a little stump barely peaking out of the sleeve of his blue hospital gown. The end was covered in a sterile, white bandage.

She had forgotten about his arm. The newspaper had mentioned an accident with his arm, and she felt a little bad for forgetting it.

Sighing, Angel turned away from her, looking out the half-open window. The sun was starting to set, and he let the light from it bathe his face, closing his eyes in the warmth.

"I'm not here to take . . . Aurora. God, that's an absolutely beautiful name." He looked back at Buffy, something small glittering in his eyes. "Do you have a picture of her? I know that you probably don't want to . . . but, I've thought about her constantly for the past few years, and I just want to know if I've pictured her right."

It was that look in his eyes, a fragility she never thought could exist in him, that began to thaw her protective shield. She took her wallet out of her purse, and removed the small photo of Aurora that she showed everyone, and put it in Angel's outstretched hand.

A tear trickled down his cheek as he memorized the picture. It was Buffy's favorite. Aurora had been running around the yard, her superhero cape billowing behind her. Then, she had stopped, and ran over to Buffy's rose tree, and leaned over to sniff one of the blooming blossoms. Buffy had caught that moment, Rory leaning over to catch a whiff of the perfume, the sunlight glowing through her unbrushed chocolate-brown hair.

"She gorgeous," he whispered, still studying the picture. "She looks just like you."

Blushing, Buffy searched again in her wallet, looking for any picture of the girl and handing them to Angel. "Here's a few more of her," she explained, "But I like that one the best."

He went through the small pile of photos slowly, getting a glimpse into the life Buffy had accidentally fallen into, while Buffy explained the situation and other people in them. The ages varied, from the baby picture the hospital had taken of her, to only a month ago. Some were from holidays, the little girl dressed up and shining brightly into the camera. A few were candid shots from around the house; her playing in the backyard, taking a bath, or getting breakfast all over her face.

And in a good majority, Aurora was with her family. All of the kids in their bathing suits eating ice cream, chocolate dripping down their smiling faces. Aurora helping Willow open up her birthday present, Willow's head thrown back with laughter. Aurora wearing Xander's police hat and shooting him with a Nerf gun. Joyce rocking baby Aurora to sleep. Tara and Cordelia painting Aurora's face for Halloween. Anya and Giles making Christmas dinner while Aurora stole bits of the cranberry sauce.

While she had said the rose tree one was the one she adored, Buffy realized she had another favorite as she pulled it out. She had forgotten all about it, and smiled at the memory of it. She had taken it when Rory was three, right after Joyce had died. Out of nowhere, Spike decided to stay with them for the next few days, so Buffy could get on her feet. She had gone out one evening to get Chinese takeout, but had been delayed longer because the order had gotten lost. When she got home, Spike had fallen asleep with Aurora on the couch, the tiny girl curled up next to him as he held her. Buffy snuck away, got out her camera, and took the picture. No one but her knew she had the picture.

"I want to tell you something," Angel suddenly said, breaking Buffy out of her daydream.

"What?"

He sighed. "I lied."

She was confused, and he read the confusion off her expression.

"Our last day together," he explained, "I lied about feeling the baby kick. My life has been all about making the good moments into shit. Did you know that I wrote a song? Well, it doesn't belong to me anymore because I threw it away. That's all I've done with these last five years. Now you, you have a great life, and you have Aurora, the beautiful little girl I threw away because I'm an idiot.

"When I left you behind, I guess I was in denial or something. I didn't want to be a father and be responsible, but now I see that it was the biggest mistake of my life. That lie managed to destroy my life, and I'm going to regret it until I die. Saying sorry is about all I can do, even though it doesn't fix anything and I don't want you to forgive me. I'm sorry. I felt Aurora kick, and I lied to you. I'm very sorry.

"You only get one chance to say you're sorry, Buffy, and if you don't take it, it'll be gone forever."

Hi everyone. It's time for me to say I'm sorry. These past few months have been completely exhausting, and I haven't been able to find the time to write, much less read fan fiction.

I feel so deprived!

I've gotten all the notes from concerned people, and everything is fine with me. Just count up my lack of updates and all to laziness and other time commitments. I'd rather you pick the latter one, but it's more realistic to go with the first one.

As for the rest of this story, I have 1 and ½ chapters archived. The final chapter is just waiting to be written, and I think I can pop it out this weekend, and save the updates for all next week. This story has taken a ridiculous amount of time, and I apologize for it.

I'm not sure what's going to happen with "Most Rare Vision". For the longest time, I just haven't been inspired to write any more for it. I'm going to try, truthfully I am, but sometimes the muses wander away.

Due to the fact that it's been a while, I'm not going to respond to reviews this post like I normally do. Please don't think that I don't love you! I love all of you. The fact is, if I don't post now, I'm not sure I'll do it.

Anyway, I hope you like this chapter, and the three others to follow, because . . . well, I just hope you all do.

Kisses,

Lily-bug!


	31. Impulsiveness

**Disclaimer: I don't own Billie Letts' "Where the Heart Is", or Joss Whedon's "Buffy the Vampire Slayer. **

**Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language, and the sex.**

**Author's Notes: I just got up about an hour ago, and it's absolutely pouring outside. Thank god I decided not to go out for breakfast, because it means I have the opportunity to update. Anyway, thank you all so much for reviewing, even though I took my damn sweet time in between chapters. Hope you all like this one.**

**PS: Rain is good, and bad.

* * *

**

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* * *

Chapter Thirty-One- Impulsiveness**

Miles of highway lay stretched before them in a never-ending line, the desert flying by them as the car went forward at 75 miles an hour.

Five years ago, this was the course Buffy and Angel were taking on their way to Los Angeles, where they were planning on making a life with the child inside her belly. She had been a naïve little girl, not prepared to become a mother. He was a selfish and cold young man, not planning on being a father.

It was two different people now driving down the route they should have taken years ago. Sure, they had the same names, but over those five years, they had aged significantly.

Buffy was behind the wheel of her Jeep, while Angel snored beside her. He was still on a lot of medication for pain and Hepatitis, and the hospital had been reluctant to discharge him until he explained where he was heading.

He had planned where to go, but it'd had been Buffy's idea to drive. Flying would get them to their destination quicker, but they needed to talk and resolve everything before they parted way.

Adjusting the volume of the music, Buffy smiled, humming the tune quietly to herself.

* * *

Buffy heard the spray of the shower coming from the bathroom as she reached for the phone.

"Taking a shower?" she asked.

"No, I'm gonna wash the car!" Angel good-naturedly yelled back.

Rolling her eyes, Buffy chuckled. Over the past few days, the two had developed a good, civil friendship, if that is what you could call it, so she wasn't going to get angry at a few sarcastic comments.

She dialed Xander and Cordelia's number, and waited for one of them to pick up. After two rings, Cordelia answered.

"Hey, it's me. We just got in," Buffy said into the receiver, starting to unlace her tennis shoes.

Before Cordelia could answer, another person on the other end picked up.

"Thank God! We've been worried for nearly two hours! I kept thinking either you crashed the car, or he blew your brains out and threw you in a ditch!" It was Xander.

"How was the ride?" Asked Cordelia.

"Good, we hit traffic around Sacramento, hence the late-age."

"What's he doing now?" Xander paranoidly inquired.

Sighing, Buffy lay back on the bed. "He's showering."

"Are you two in the same room? What the hell are you thinking! Stay there, I'm driving up, and I'll take him to Washington!"

Buffy heard Cordelia groan. "One minute," she sighed, before setting down the receiver. After a moment, she was back. "He's fine now, I got him something shiny to play with."

"Well, someone's a little crazy," Buffy laughed.

But Cordelia was serious. "I don't know who's the crazier one at this moment. My husband, the grand Inquisitioner, or you, the girl who decides to drive her ex all the way home to Washington!"

She groaned. "Just leave it alone. I'm driving him home, and we're staying in the same room, but there are two beds, and he's too tired to pull anything."

"Whatever."

"So, how's my little girl?"

At that, Cordelia warmed up. "She fell asleep waiting to talk to you, but she's fine. And yes, no one's told her who Angel is."

"Thanks." Buffy stifled a yawn. "Anyway, have a good night. I'll try to call you guys in the morning before we leave."

"Yeah, you have a long drive tomorrow."

"Cordy, it's been a long drive, period."

* * *

The Jeep had been parked for nearly ten minutes, while Angel and Buffy stared at the house across the street. It was a nice, light blue painted house, the cozy neighborhood street situated outside the border of Vancouver, Washington.

"Are you ready yet?" Buffy asked for the second time. But with each passing minute, it looked less and less like Angel would be getting out.

"Sorry. It's been a long time since I've been back here," he explained.

"I can't get over it. This is where you grew up," Buffy mused.

They sat in the silence a few minutes more, both studying the house as if it were something to be wary of.

Before Buffy could ask again, Angel reached into the backseat, and grabbed the duffel bag filled with his few possessions. Among the new clothes and necessities he bought at the same Sunnydale Wal-Mart he left Buffy in, was a stack of copied photos, held together by a rubber band. It was a present from Buffy to him, along with her phone number.

"Do you want me to wait until you get in?" inquired the blonde.

"Yeah," he sighed, scratching his head with his left hand. "I don't know how this is going to go."

Getting out of the car at the same time he did, Buffy circled around the vehicle to meet up with him. Clumsily, they embraced, his good arm wrapping around her body.

"If you're ever in trouble-" Buffy began.

Angel smiled. "I know." Standing apart, they studied each other.

Reaching out, he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. "I can't believe I let you go," he lamented, taking off in the direction of the house before she could reply.

Stunned, she went back into the car, turned her head, and watched Angel walk up the steps of his childhood home. At the front door, he set his bag on the stoop, and knocked with his remaining hand. Moments passed, and a middle-aged woman wearing a faded green sundress, her hair streaked with gray, opened the door.

Too far away to hear what they were saying, if anything, Buffy watched the two stand still, until Angel's mom embraced her son, tears streaming down her face as she held him. Angel, in turn, broke down, nearly falling over as he apologized to his mother.

A smile coming to her face, Buffy turned the car on, and pulled away, trying not to make her presence known.

* * *

Buffy got a room outside Portland, tired from the half a day journey through three states to bring Angel home. She crashed on the bed, still holding her purse, too lazy to remove her clothing or shoes, and reached for the remote. Except, the TV did not have a remote, and Buffy was not willing to stand up in order to watch HBO.

Bored, she tried reading through the few business magazines and the eight-month-old Reader's Digest the hotel staff had left in her room. As she put away the last magazine, she knocked her purse off the bed, and the contents spilled all over the floor.

Now, that was something she had to fix. Groaning as she got up, she stuffed the various items back into the bag.

Her wallet was the last thing on the floor, and as she picked it up, something inside was poking out. Buffy pulled it out, and when she saw she was holding the photo of Aurora and Spike, she sighed.

"_You only get one chance to say you're sorry, Buffy, and if you don't take it, it'll be gone forever."_

Later that night, Buffy made three consecutive phone calls.

The first one was to the Harris house, asking if they wouldn't mind taking Aurora for a little while longer.

The next one was for the Magic Box. She wanted only one thing from Anya: an address.

And the final one was to the Portland Airport, asking when the next plane to London was leaving, and if they had long-term parking.

* * *

Paige- Well, at least this chapter gives you your request. The Buffy/Angel love ain't coming back.

Mita427- God, Miss Bitch, how I have missed our verbal sparing. It has left a hole in my heart, and as much as I tried filling it up with soft-core porn and repeats of "BJ and the Bear", your review overshadowed all! And yes, everything is fine with me. I'm just a lazy skank.

Kim- If I had that wonderful check from Wal-Mart, I'd probably be gone in two days, spent on shoes and movies. But, maybe Buffy's just a bit more careful when it comes to money. It's probably a rainy day fund, only to be used in case of drastic emergencies. And as for your wish that the two crazy kids get together, this may be a step in that direction.

GoldenAngl88- I'm just going to say a big, blanket "Thank you so very much" for all the nice things you said. I'm glad you like this story, and the little angel that is Aurora. She's absolutely my favorite made-up character, and I hope that if I ever have a daughter, she'd be like her. I know that the Oz-thing is a little OOC, but it had to be done, and I hated myself for that.

Imzadi- I never thought about it like that. It's weird how those things just kinda happen, isn't it. Well, I'm glad to hear from you too, to see that you haven't created some lifelong grudge against me. And, in answering the two questions you have been so patient waiting to have answered: 1) Lindsay is not coming back in this story, he's off with his girl making babies. 2) I'm going to try to get back to MRV, but you know how it is when you lost a certain muse for a story. Kisses.

SapphireAngL- Your request is granted. Whoo hoo!

Discord Marie- I'm elated that you're elated, if that makes any sense. Just to let you know, there are only two chapters left in this story, and they are almost all written. I just have to make sure they are as squee-able as everyone is hoping.

Dancingbymoonlight- Actually, I'm the one that deserves the wallop on the head. Reviewing is something you do out of the kindness of your heart, while actually posting a chapter is just plain sense. Well, thank you all the same.

LuckyGal91- I hope you didn't read it all in one sitting, cause I know that makes me go nutty. But thank you for liking this story so much.

Chrestomanci- No, you suck. I heart you. Luke and Loreali FOREVER!

DoWnEr- Oh wow, he is getting the short end of the sex stick. I didn't realize it! Maybe, (I'm just pulling this out of my ass) he was too busy taking care of his sister, that he just wasn't going out and getting laid . . . that's a sucky reason. Next time, he's getting lots and lots of booty, preferably from Buffy.

PyroDeScorpio2- The movie is titled "Where the Heart Is", so you were on target. I like it, but I recommend that you read the novel as well. There is a lot more to the story than what is portrayed in the movie (obviously), although it is without the adorableness that is Natalie Portman. And as for the Angel thing, Riley's too stupid and Parker's just an idiot.

Dagorwen of Ithilien- I really heart the name Rory! Completely off topic, you might like the show "Gilmore Girls" because one of the lead character's name is Rory. Just wanted to throw it out there, cause I heart that show as well. Anyway, thank you so much!


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